


Left with Jack-All

by Ki_ru



Series: The Ruined T-Shirts Trilogy [2]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Action, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Drama, Drug Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, Insomnia, Lazy Sex, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_ru/pseuds/Ki_ru
Summary: When Rainbow welcomes Jackal and Mira as new additions to their ranks, Jäger falls head over heels for the suave Spaniard to whom Bandit takes an instant dislike. Then things start going wrong and it's far from obvious whose fault it is.This is part of a series but functions as a standalone. Contains very slight spoilers for Part 1.





	1. Chapter 1

Jäger had completely forgotten about the big news.

Twitch was complaining away at his side, lamenting the admittedly poor state of their base and fearing for the well-being of their limbs in the near future when temperatures would drop below freezing. If their central heating broke _again_ , they would be in serious trouble – ‘they’ in this case referring to all operators except for the Spetsnaz. The Russians had proven ridiculously resilient against the cold once before, when only their room had been affected and they had failed to even _notice_ the busted radiator, instead adding a single layer to their bedding and getting on with their lives as usual.

The two of them had been tasked to identify and resolve the problem that had rendered their heating non-functional, seeing as they were the only ones who’d listened to a concerned Rook reporting the issue to everyone in the workshop: Fuze and Kapkan had seemed entirely unbothered, IQ hadn’t even looked up from her own work and no one trusted Bandit not to turn the unit into some sort of electrical death trap. Thus, Twitch and Jäger had ‘volunteered’.

After having spent what felt like an unnecessary amount of time on the prehistoric boiler, they were finally crowned with success as well as irritated, grimy and starving. Half-heartedly, they cleaned up after themselves, washed their hands and faces and agreed on skipping a proper shower and a change of clothes for now, giving their empty stomachs priority.

Oh, how Jäger regretted that decision the second he set foot into the canteen and was suddenly confronted with two unfamiliar faces among the small crowd that had formed in the space between the kitchen and the tables.

 

The series of attacks in late autumn had been followed by a surprisingly uneventful few weeks during which most of the operators were even granted leave, allowing them to visit friends and family and/or travel without fretting over missions that they either awaited with trepidation or replayed endlessly right before plunging into an uneasy sleep. None of them fell into the trap that was complacency though. They knew peace was fleeting.

As expected, their repose was short-lived and the White Masks started to cause chaos once again, prompting a series of smaller operations on the other side of the world that necessitated the use of a temporary base. They had chased the terrorists back around the globe and only recently reoccupied their original cantonment.

Upon their return, they were informed that Six had been just as busy as them in the meantime and established contact with other special forces, looking to expand their ranks. The announcement was largely met with approval – the more operators joined Rainbow, the more flexibility they had when selecting the perfect team for certain tasks. Additionally, in rare cases they’d had to divide up for various simultaneous missions which meant that they’d fought in hardly ideal groups of only three.

Not to mention the added bonus of not being confronted with the same old faces day after day.

 

And of-freaking-course, the two new operators had to arrive _this_ evening. Some mud still under his fingernails, his ratty jeans streaked with dirt, his hair dishevelled and his mood dreadful – he was in no shape to be meeting any new people, but before he was able to make the split second decision to turn on his heels and flee, the Frenchwoman next to him (the _traitor_ ) made a delighted noise, grabbed his wrist and dragged him with her.

Despite the grime, she looked impeccable, by the way. Jäger vaguely wished her physical harm.

Some of the bystanders parted once they’d been noticed and allowed them access to the new arrivals who were being mobbed like local celebrities, but judging by their bright smiles and friendly expressions, they bathed rather than drowned in all the attention. That’s when Jäger got his first good look at the two Spaniards from merely a metre away.

This distance was important insofar as that Jäger might’ve had a chance to mentally prepare himself if it had been, say, five metres instead. The extra second could’ve proven enough to gather all the still-intact bits from his shattered composure and hastily glue together something resembling an appropriate facial expression. Like this, though? A lost cause. His proudest accomplishment right now was the fact that he managed not to drop his jaw on the floor as he gaped at the tall man in front of him like an idiot.

He was _gorgeous_.

Actually, that wasn’t exactly true – Jäger associated an untouchable beauty with that word, as pristine as it was out of reach, almost ethereal. The kind of loveliness that seemed to exist only in between the real world and fantasy, when make-up and Photoshop and post-production had worked their magic.

This guy, however, was undeniably corporeal. His handsomeness had nothing otherworldly about it, no, there was an underlying, almost material corruption tainting any first impression of unspoilt, innocent beauty. He wasn’t just gorgeous, he was _hot_ as all hell. His attractiveness was so tangible that almost all of Jäger’s senses perceived it. From the smooth curve of his strong jaw to the sharp tang of his aftershave, from the deep, silky voice to the warm grip of his hand, every detail about him both made Jäger admire his entire person (internally) and went straight to his cock (externally, unfortunately).

He suddenly realised he was shaking hands with the Spaniard and being introduced, or maybe he wasn’t and he’d been asked a question, who knew? Certainly not him, he’d been entirely too fixated on those elegantly curved lips he was dying to touch with literally _any_ part of his body and now those chestnut brown eyes were looking at him expectantly and _oh God he was going to get a boner any second now_. “Excuse me?”, he asked weakly, which represented the epitome of his eloquence at that moment.

The crinkles in the corners of those almond-shaped hypnotising eyes deepened and a friendly smile lit up the entire face. Jäger felt his knees weaken. He was still holding his hand, their touch a direct connection between them that felt like it ran deeper than just a welcoming gesture; the warmth of it filled him from the inside, straightened his body, rooted his feet to the ground. For a second it felt like the only thing allowing him to breathe. “My name is Jackal. And you must be Jäger. Did I say that right?”

His pronunciation was nowhere near correct, but Jäger found himself nodding mutely regardless. His name had never sounded more exotic, had never been rolled off another man’s tongue quite like this. The Spaniard’s name was familiar – he faintly recalled Blitz telling him about Jackal’s arrival only yesterday. He hadn’t expected Jackal to be this tall. Or this ravishing.

“Then you two are the ones I have to thank for making sure I won’t freeze to death”, Jackal continued amicably. Either he was the most unobservant person on the entire planet or, instead of Jäger’s face betraying his entrancement, it had shut down and gave away nothing. In which case Jackal must think him an arsehole or at least exceedingly rude.

“Sure”, Jäger said, “no problem.” Deservedly, Jackal withdrew his hand at such a lame answer, though it seemed it was only to introduce himself to Twitch who must’ve been awkwardly standing behind Jäger during his wanton epiphany amidst mankind’s longest handshake. It was as if a spotlight that had been shining directly into Jäger’s eyes was turned away all of a sudden – if being the focus of Jackal’s blinding, overwhelming attention had been invigorating, its loss felt like a stab to the chest. Numbly, he turned towards the Spanish woman next to Jackal and welcomed Mira, as she was called, to Rainbow.

“It’s a great honour to be here. But I’m sorry, how do you say your name again? I didn’t catch it and Ryad probably butchered it.” Mira smiled good-naturedly. She was pretty and seemed nice. Jäger hoped she was either blind or a lesbian.

He chose to ignore her slip-up – after all, she’d only recently been recruited and not familiar with the rules of Rainbow yet, one of which was: no names. Obviously, operators coming from the same special forces knew each others’ names, but the fewer personal details were known, the better. Familiarity with their nicknames also allowed them to comfortably use them on missions, during which enemies could conceivably hack into their comms. “It’s Jäger”, he replied, trying to enunciate both syllables clearly. In hindsight, he probably should’ve chosen a name without an umlaut.

“Then you really were too polite to correct him”, Mira laughed. “I’m told we’re going on a mission together tomorrow morning. I’m looking forward to seeing you in action.”

Jäger felt his stomach drop. Another vague recollection: the GEO recruits were indeed supposed to accompany GSG9 on their next mission. He excused himself and numbly moved to the stove to escape the suffocating presence that was the personification of all his wet dreams combined. It finally sank in what he’d just done – stared at the Spaniard with wild eyes, outright refused to let go of his hand, managed to produce no more than five words and then gasped like a fish out of water once Jackal had ended their awkward interaction.

Worse than this embarrassment, however, was the mortification that overcame him when he remembered the emotions sweeping over him, his arousal, his almost esoteric rapture. Jackal was just as much made of flesh and blood as he was, Jäger even had seniority over him in Rainbow, and who cared if he was hot? They had a job to do, lives to save. He should know better than that, know better than let a flight of fancy, a momentary crush distract him. He was a professional, after all.

He made the mistake of looking up, directly at Jackal. He was taller than almost all of Rainbow, though surprisingly delicate. His bronze skin built an eye-catching contrast to the light clothing he wore. His dark eye lashes were laughably long. His arse was phenomenal.

He was _stunning_.

“Kill me”, Jäger murmured while sitting down opposite of IQ and Blitz, who had been chatting to the French operators next to them.

Blitz, good old Blitz, chosen leader, competent fighter, quick thinker even in the face of life-threatening danger, who showed more humility than both SAS and FBI combined, who refused to leave anyone behind and who protected his teammates with a fierce loyalty rarely found these days, who could cheer up anyone with his poignant humour – Blitz, who had been by Jäger’s side for years now, steadily gnawing his way into his heart to the point where it was impossible for Jäger to imagine a life without his best friend, took one good look at him and correctly surmised: “Are you ill?”

“Oh my _God_ ”, Jäger said and buried his face in his hands. The plate of stew in front of him was already forgotten: he wasn’t hungry anymore and he doubted he would be able to taste anything anyway. How was he meant to convey the sheer extent of his problem, how huge the hole was he’d dug for himself? Even though Blitz was nothing but understanding and supportive, he often failed spectacularly at trying to parse anything concerning Jäger’s love life. Not that there _was_ much to misunderstand most of the time, but when it came to relationships, Blitz was eye-wateringly old-fashioned, baffled by the notion that not everyone would want to endure several dates or maybe-dates before even expressing any form of romantic interest. If Jäger told him he wanted nothing more than to mount the same guy he’d just met, Blitz would’ve been scandalised. “Please just tell me we’re not going on a mission with the Spaniards tomorrow.”

“Well… we’re not.” Blitz sounded genuinely concerned. “We’re just taking Mira, Jackal is going with the Americans. Why, is there something wrong?”

There was hope. Maybe all he needed was a little time to process this alarming development, to build up resolve so he could withstand Jackal’s allures. Though there was another alternative. “What does the Iron Lord think of them?” Due to his age, name, nationality and cynicism, Thatcher had earned himself another nickname that was only used behind his back for fear of bodily harm and a barrage of dialect-tinted insults that only the other Brits would be able to decipher. Thatcher was well-known for his observant nature and an excellent judge of character, therefore Jäger would trust his verdict. If it turned out Jackal was indeed eye-candy so sweet it gave you diabetes, but also a prick, it might alleviate Jäger’s obsession with him.

“Seal of approval!”, someone behind him announced and slammed his fist on the table to mimic stamping something, making Jäger jump in his seat. Bandit chuckled and folded himself into the empty chair next to him in a way that could only be described as melting – wherever he stood, he slouched, and wherever he sat, he sprawled. Bandit looked relaxed in almost all situations, cracking jokes, recounting stories, but underneath his airy manner thrummed an energy capable of serious harm. Not unlike the crude electrical devices he was so fond of using. Since a few others looked their way, Bandit switched to German to ensure a somewhat private conversation: “The Iron Lord loves them. Said they come across as hard-working and genuine. Of course, he doesn’t love the dude quite as much as _you_ do, darling.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

So his internal breakdown hadn’t been as covert as he’d hoped, though he should’ve known better than to assume Blitz’ obliviousness was a reliable criterion. Jäger was also sure Bandit hadn’t exchanged a single word with Thatcher but rather overheard him. Thatcher _hated_ Bandit.

Being the centre of Bandit’s attention was almost never a positive thing, yet he seemed to make an exception for both Jäger and Ash, sparing them of the tasteless pranks with which he tormented everyone else and instead annoyed them with equally tasteless jokes and incessant teasing. His reasons were far from complex to figure out: to get a rise out of Blitz, he had to come up with ideas as nefarious as they were creative, but to get a rise out of Jäger, a lot less was required of him. A little too much knowledge of any intimate issues, the threat of Twitch becoming the newest victim of whatever gadget he had recently weaponised, even a few pointed remarks were usually enough to satisfy Bandit.

The friendship between Ash and Bandit still puzzled others since all they seemed to do was snarl at each other, yet Jäger knew what had drawn them together. Their shared lack of respect for authority and their haughty behaviour was one thing, though it turned out they just entertained each other. Bandit’s antics rarely failed to amuse Ash and Ash’s continuous insubordination that had prompted a betting pool on how long she would last appealed to Bandit. They were a volatile combination, especially because they both relished danger.

“Leave him alone”, Blitz said with furrowed brows, “don’t _assume_ , just because Jackal is good-looking.”

Jäger almost whimpered. If pure, innocent _Blitz_ of all people (who still hadn’t realised Bandit was spot on) thought the Spaniard handsome, he was doomed.

“I’m not assuming. Wanna make a bet? Have him stare at the Mediterranean boy toy for a few minutes and then check his pants. If you can’t put your sleeping bag in there and camp for a few days, I’ll eat Castle’s underwear for breakfast.”

Blitz seemed offended and opened his mouth to continue defending Jäger’s virtue (in which only Blitz adamantly believed), but Mira sat down on Jäger’s other side at that moment, obviously intent on getting to know her future squad mates. Ever the gentleman, Blitz threw Bandit a last warning glare and then started a conversation with their new arrival to make her feel welcome.

Slightly relieved that he wouldn’t have to admit to his overwhelming attraction to Blitz, Jäger turned to the smug Bandit next to him and asked quietly: “Was it that obvious?”

A snort. “Yeah, it was fucking obvious. You looked like someone had told you your uncle died. Even when you got shot in one of your arteries you weren’t that pale. You always say you don’t have a type, but now we know that’s a lie – you do, and it’s standing right over there looking like a shittier version of Zorro.”

“He looks _nothing_ like Antonio Banderas”, Jäger protested. He turned around to make sure and immediately regretted his decision. Jackal’s stubble would probably feel divine while scratching over the sensitive skin on his neck or on the insides of his thighs. His exposed arms with the soft dark hair looked strong enough to be able to pin Jäger down.

He was _exquisite_.

Jäger turned back around to Bandit, who was watching him with an unusual attentive and thoughtful expression. “I need help. This isn’t even funny anymore.”

“Normally, I’d disagree because you’re kind of hilarious when you’re acting so brain-dead, but in this case, yeah. Better get over your crush sooner rather than later.”

One of the reasons why Bandit didn’t constantly drag a queue of people after him waiting for their turn to slog him was that he rarely interfered with other people’s personal business. Sure, he commented on it, though he refrained from taking any actions, preferring to watch the drama unfold from the sidelines. Hearing him give advice now was peculiar, especially since Jäger’s crushes were a source of neverending entertainment for him. “What do you mean? Have you heard something? Is he married?”

Bandit scoffed. “That’s your first assumption? That he’s _married_? He’s in Rainbow, of course he’s not married, we don’t have lives.” He glanced disdainfully at the man in question. “I just don’t like the look of him. He reeks of trouble. If I were you, I’d stay away from him.”

“Are you sure you’re not just disliking him on principle? Just to spite Thatcher?”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll just put some dye in his Lordship’s bodywash or shave one of his eyebrows. Also, you should probably go shower once you’ve eaten. You look like shit.” With that, Bandit gave him a last lazy grin and left.

 

As far as Jäger could tell, Mira would be a good fit for Rainbow.

Their intel limited, the four GSG9 operators and the Spanish woman had been assigned to clear out a terrorist lair in an abandoned warehouse close to a busy industrial area. Expecting heavy resistance, they initially drew closer and closer circles around the storehouse, eliminating any lookouts and stragglers noiselessly to avoid attracting unwanted attention this early into their mission. When it was time to enter the facility though, stealth was no longer an option due to several wide, open areas where sound carried exceptionally well and they would quickly get spotted and surrounded.

Instead, Blitz led multiple charges with IQ cowering behind him, being protected by his shield, while Mira backed them up with suppressing fire from a safe distance. Bandit and Jäger were tasked to flank the enemy from two sides at the same time, leaving their opponents barely any chance to fight back. Their communication was mostly non-verbal while they got into position, but Mira easily picked up on their gestures and integrated herself seamlessly into their routine.

At the very core of the hideout lay a surprise for them: a live bomb, scheduled to detonate in no less than thirty minutes. The state of the room suggested it was planned for transport, probably to the nearest factory, and meant to take countless lives, spreading fear and hatred and confusion. Grimly, IQ set to defuse it even before Blitz had uttered the command and the rest of them secured the office in preparation of a siege – they’d only cleared out half of the warehouse and the White Masks were warned of their presence.

Despite the intensity of the mission, they functioned like clockwork, gears interlocking, everyone on the same schedule. The momentary distraction allowed them to breathe freely, exchange tight smiles, dance around each other busily in the restricted space. Blitz joked about IQ’s worry lines, she half-heartedly snapped back and Mira let out her melodic laugh. Bandit told them to watch their step and Jäger gave him a silent thumbs up.

As soon as the first terrorist showed up, they snapped back to their professional mode so fast it was a wonder none of them ended up with whiplash.

 

Rainbow’s simultaneous onslaught on various White Mask hideaways resulted in resounding victory. The SAS operators even managed to gather information about other possible lairs, thus providing them with more work, which prompted both approval and tired groans. Pride was written over faces all around, exuberant cheers filled the base and even Bandit’s smile looked genuine. Their tension transformed into exhilaration: no one had been injured, no civilians hurt, the terrorists severely decimated.

When GSG9 returned, they were met with jubilant cries and unexpectedly kind comments outside the main entrance where most of the operators had met, enjoying the crisp afternoon air in the last sunbeams of the day. Twitch ran towards them, beaming, and flung herself at Jäger who barely caught her before swinging her slim body around. One could almost forget they’d spent the day killing others.

“Good to see you too”, Jäger greeted the Frenchwoman once she’d set him free again, “I report: roughly one warehouse of scumbags less and a dangerous bomb disposed of. I already heard it went similarly for everyone else.”

“Oh, you have no idea!” Twitch’s eyes widened excitedly and she linked arms with him only to drag him away from his teammates, lowering her voice. “ _Things_ happened in the American team.”

Jäger’s heart skipped a beat. He’d successfully banned Jackal from his conscious mind, if by ‘successful’ one meant ‘didn’t think about him the _entire_ time’, though he was unable to forget the humiliatingly desperate dream from which he’d woken up this morning that left him gasping, rock hard, considering early retirement as well as vowing to never disclose its content to anyone else, ever. Seeing the Spaniard at their early and unsatisfyingly short breakfast hadn’t helped, but fortunately their mission prohibited any distractions.

His brain helpfully provided him with a variety of possible scenarios that would cause Twitch to announce a statement like that: Jackal had been wounded (please no). Ash had gotten herself shot (again). Pulse had fought someone (again). Ash and Jackal had been found snogging while on the job (oh God). Jackal and _Castle_ had been found snogging on the job (why). Jackal had turned out to be an impostor who didn’t even know which end of a gun he was supposed to hold (who cared, he was still hot). Jackal had saved the day (oh yes). Jackal had saved the day _so much_ that he in fact had killed all the terrorists, defused three bombs and rescued a boatload of hostages all by himself (stop, when did he develop a competence kink).

What ended up leaving his mouth was: “Is he alright?” He fully expected Twitch to somehow have gained intimate knowledge of his admittedly slightly hysterical thoughts and when she merely blinked at him with a baffled expression, he barked impatiently: “Jackal, is freaking Jackal alright?”

“Yes, of course, he’s standing _right there_ , what are you talking about?”

Jäger turned around and realised exactly thirteen seconds too late that the small gathering in hearing range was comprised of three Brits and the operator in question. His short black hair was the sensual kind of messy and just missing Jäger’s hands running through it slowly. His fingers were long and graceful, made for holding slim wine glasses, writing with an elegant fountain pen or lifting Jäger’s chin so he could swallow him deeper.

He was _delectable_.

He was also returning Jäger’s gaze quizzically, undoubtedly having overheard his own name before and now finding the German staring at him wordlessly from an uncomfortably close distance.

“We need to leave”, Jäger murmured and dragged his companion away with him, around the side of the building, ignoring his burning cheeks and the nagging feeling that he would never have the willpower to treat Jackal like a human being.

“In any case”, Twitch continued as if Jäger hadn’t just made a complete arse of himself (which either meant she hadn’t realised, she was too polite to mention it or she had already developed a tolerance for his antics), “there was drama. And guess who’s at the centre of it?”

“Castle.”

She rolled her eyes. In all of Rainbow, never once had Castle even partaken in anything akin to an argument. He was even more amicable than the French. “Allegedly Ash completely lost it and cursed so much over comms that the rest of the team had to tune her out. She claims Jackal disrespected her and ran in on his own, disregarding her orders and almost getting himself killed. After the mission, Ash was _livid_ , Thermite apparently had to physically hold her back to prevent a fight. Jackal says he has literally no idea what she’s angry about.”

Jäger didn’t like the sound of that. For someone to be considered even more aggressive in a combat situation than Ash, he would have to storm the building unarmed while yodelling the national anthem. It was impossible for Jackal to have joined Rainbow while harbouring a death wish, therefore he must’ve insulted Ash in some way. The other alternative was that she was outright lying. “And no one saw them? No one can confirm either story?”

“Nothing. Ash was supposed to be the distraction, breaching the front with Jackal covering her while Thermite, Castle and Pulse flanked, they were alone. I don’t believe a word she’s saying – unless GEO trains their recruits to become canon fodder, there is no way he’s that reckless. He should probably be careful around her in the future, he’s definitely on her shitlist now.”

On hers, and on Bandit’s. It seemed like the two had taken an immediate dislike to the new addition to their ranks, for reasons Jäger couldn’t fathom. Envy was a possibility – negative or not, both of them basked in any sort of attention they got. The two Spaniards clearly stole their spotlight and were usually surrounded by several operators getting to know them, Jäger could see Ash bearing a grudge about something so banal as that. “Someone should probably warn them. If she wants, Ash can make your life hell.”

Twitch nodded in agreement, her face serious. The three women had always shared a room and living together with the redhead proved difficult at times. Ash preferred male company. “Yes, go tell him. You barely got to talk to him anyway, right? He’s really nice, he’ll be happy to chat with – why are you making that face?”

“I have a condition”, Jäger said with a pained expression.

“Huh?”

“Look. You’re a woman in the prime of your life, you’ve got eyes. Don’t tell me _doesn’t_ make your womanhood tremble.”

Perplexed, Twitch laughed for exactly as long as it took her to figure out Jäger wasn’t joking, but in fact tragically sincere. “What, Jackal? First of all, he’s probably twenty years older than I am. Second, we’re colleagues. And third, he’s not even my type whatsoever. He is kind of handsome though, I’ll grant you that. Why do you -” She stopped abruptly, eyes widening in realisation and gently took Jäger’s hands in hers. “Don’t tell me -”

“I can’t think of anything else, mein Schatz. I look at him and my brain shuts down. It’s never been this bad, I don’t know what to _do_.”

She squeezed his hand with a sympathetic expression. “You’ve barely talked to him. Is it really that bad?”

“Worse.” He grimaced once more.

“You don’t even know him, do you? So this is all purely physical?” She chewed on her lip a moment, thinking. “You know what, don’t focus on it, take it slow, distract yourself. It’ll fade. I’ve seen it before, you’re thinking it’ll never change, but it will, trust me. Once you’ve chatted with him a few times, gotten used to him, you’ll look back and laugh at yourself. Alright?” Her smile was reassuring and her hands warm. Even though she was younger, she was the one with her priorities straight in their friendship, the rational one, kind and calm, reliable and with sheer endless empathy. It was probably significant that down-to-earth personalities like her and Blitz took a look at the emotional mess that was Jäger and decided to adopt him.

He sincerely hoped she was right. He hoped just as much that Jackal was either just as straight as Blitz (since it was impossible to be straighter than him) or that they were wholly incompatible. Because he didn’t wish to watch his lust turn into something else entirely.

 

As it turned out, perpetual fear of death was a capable motivator to mostly ignore his awkward infatuation.

Rainbow had celebrated too early – the intelligence gathered by the SAS proved substantial, allowing Six with her vast network of contacts all around the globe to pinpoint a staggeringly large amount of hideouts which possibly held the key to unlock the secret of the grey eminence behind the terrorists. However, this meant a tremendous amount of work for the operators.

Starting the day after their first successful haul, all casualness was dropped and a time of full-on war began. Carefully cultivated schedules fell apart, sleep became a luxury, proper meals a hotly sought-after commodity, their exact whereabouts an unnecessary detail, irrelevant to their task and therefore not worth the energy to find out. The only things that mattered were staying alive and completing the job. Nights were spent travelling or sweeping through several locations one after the other, their beds in the base quickly fading in their minds to nothing more than a blissful memory.

Jäger never knew who would be accompanying him on the next mission. Most of the time, they stuck to their well attuned teams which were usually adequately prepared for all situations, but some specialised operators hopped from squad to squad to offer their skills whenever necessary. After having stormed the first wave of hideaways, the White Masks inevitably caught on and deserted most of their other bases, though some of them went rogue and resisted Rainbow valiantly. It was nigh impossible to tell whether a location had been abandoned or not when arriving on scene, so it happened more than once that they cleared an entire building, adrenaline flooding their system, their mind sharp and their attention unwavering, only to realise they’d been chasing but a shadow.

Naps became essential. It wasn’t uncommon to find the operators loosely draped over each other in an attempt to find a more comfortable position and Montagne especially found others often drooling on his shoulders. Everything edible in reach was either wolfed down without any hesitation or generously shared to improve morale. Whoever managed to organise some coffee was met with reverence. While the teams normally tried to stay in contact, any downtime that allowed them to take a breather had become so meaningful that they unanimously and silently agreed on: no news were good news.

Blitz was a godsend. His ability to dissipate any disquieting atmosphere, no matter how tense, was invaluable and kept Jäger’s mind whole during these insane days. It also became increasingly clear that operators who were on the brink of succumbing to stress, exhaustion and instability were paired with GSG9 or brought into contact with Blitz via comms. Twitch had somehow misplaced her pistol and obsessed about someone stealing it deliberately until Blitz convinced her that she must’ve forgotten it during one of her many relocations. Mira seemed to need nothing more than a pat on the back from someone other than Sledge because the Brits’ leader’s Scottish dialect became incomprehensible to her after a mission, probably due to tiredness, relief, pride or a combination of all of those and she simply wanted to know whether she was doing a job good or had accidentally insulted Sledge’s mother. Even Tachanka fancied a quick chat with Blitz, though Jäger suspected that the other Russians were simply so irritated by the older man’s ability to function without any sleep at all that they refused to speak to him.

Miraculously, all injuries were minor or at least non-threatening. Fuze, Pulse and Rook all suffered graze shots that probably hurt their egos more than their bodies, Kapkan managed to enthusiastically roll around in razor wire when a desperate terrorist jumped him, IQ sustained some non-critical burns from an explosion, Doc got stabbed in the leg (and allegedly managed to angrily patch himself up before shooting most of the remaining White Masks himself) and Smoke ironically suffered a mild case of carbon dioxide poisoning.

When the announcement came that they were to return to their base until further notice, the general mood was more relieved than cheerful. At least one more mission was ahead of them, but they were allowed a grace period during which they could lick their wounds and tank energy for the final push.

 

Jäger had slept for ten hours straight. He usually got up together with the bouncy young Frenchman who shared their room, Rook, but their routine meant nothing in the face of a proper mattress, a fluffy pillow and the knowledge of not having to fight bloodthirsty terrorists any time soon. When he climbed down from his bunk bed, only Bandit was still there, looking deceptively innocent in his sleep. He’d been quiet the past few days, which either meant he was stressed out, waiting for something or brooding. None of these options were particularly desirable.

Not bothering to dress properly, Jäger just grabbed some tracksuit trousers and his shower necessities before quietly slipping out into the hallway. For this late into the morning, the base was eerily silent, Jäger without a doubt not one of the last people to leave his bed. The absence of noise put him on edge – it had a different quality to it than the quiet on normal days, when he got up early to enjoy a light-hearted morning chat with Rook and Twitch in the mostly empty canteen. This stillness screamed of nightmares, their uncomfortable reality, the anxiety of the past days that had yet to stop looming over them.

A soft hissing sound bled into the corridor, announcing someone’s presence in the showers together with the fine curls of steam that escaped the door when Jäger pushed it open. He almost dropped his towel. Of course. He should’ve known. Who else would it be?

The most worrying thing was this: it wasn’t even lust that overwhelmed him. Needless to say, his brain still catalogued the sight, burning it into his memory for extensive use later. The gainly, long legs that seemed to go on for days were duly noted just like the pronounced muscles on his flat belly, the unobstructed view of his full-body tan answered a question which had been floating around in Jäger’s mind for far too long and the sizeable penis clearly visible due to clean-shaven skin was large enough to make his mouth water.

But all of this paled against the nearly irresistible impulse to… well, _hug_. To walk up to him, turn off the shower and bury Jäger’s face in the crook of his neck. Experience the tranquillity of a warm, gentle embrace, feel his hands card through Jäger’s hair, his fingertips dig into the tense spots on his back and his body support him. He was suddenly starved for physical affection, wanted nothing more than to drag him into the nearest bed, wrap himself around him and just _breathe_.

He was _tantalising_.

The sudden urge had to be attributed to the craziness they had just put past them, that much was clear, but this realisation did nothing to dampen it. Rather, it enhanced the desire to touch, to crawl into his skin, glue himself to the man in front of him.

All the details that Jäger had postponed, pushed to the back of his mind came flooding back: Jackal had exceeded expectations on almost all missions, managed to remain unharmed, even rescued teammates out of difficult situations. He was ambitious, ruthless and efficient, earning praise from Sledge, Montagne and Tachanka. He had easily befriended the polyglot Castle, obviously delighted about the opportunity to use his mother tongue, and seemed to fit in seamlessly with whichever team he was assigned to. He was there to stay.

Which made it so much worse that he caught Jäger overtly staring at his genitals.

If he’d gotten away with it, he’d be running, but as to not attract attention, he settled on a determined stride back to his room where he could experience meltdown in relative privacy. Weakly, he sank down onto the nearest bed and cursed himself. Why was it that coherent thought flew right out the window as soon as he caught a mere glimpse of the man? What about him was so fascinating (except for his _everything_ )? And why did he unfailingly make an arse of himself literally every time they would’ve gotten the chance to interact?

“Hey”, someone mumbled next to him and he nearly jumped. He’d forgotten about Bandit entirely. “Everyone else already up?” He nodded wordlessly. “You look like someone shat in your bed while you were in it.”

“I want him _so much_ ”, Jäger whispered helplessly, overcome with the realisation of how true his words were – he wanted _all_ of Jackal, wanted to get to know him, cuddle him, screw him, everything. During the silence that followed, he put his head in his hands and wondered what he should do. Twitch might know and even if she didn’t, she could provide a much needed hug as well as a distraction, which was all he could ask for at the moment. All of them were physically and mentally drained, a lot of them moody and imbalanced.

Bandit propped himself up on one elbow and examined him thoughtfully. “Maybe I can help. You’re frustrated, hm? Haven’t had the chance to wank during all that fucking chaos. Tell you what, you can grind on my morning wood while I jerk you off and I promise you you’ll feel better.”

Jäger gaped at him in horror. He couldn’t be serious. “You can’t be serious.”

The other man just shrugged nonchalantly. “I’d rather do you a favour than have you mope around all goddamn day. Maybe all you need is another guy’s hand on your junk to stop using it for a fucking brain, you know?” He obviously noticed Jäger’s discomfort and added more softly: “No strings. Not a single word to anyone. You’re not yourself and you definitely can’t deal with your incomprehensible obsession like this. Come here.”

His words were tempting, enticing even to Jäger who identified the underlying, sickly-sweet tone of Bandit’s voice that sounded like the lure of a predator. It wasn’t that he was incapable of altruism, but more often than not his selflessness disguised itself as egoism and the other way round. However, he couldn’t think of anything specific Bandit sought to gain from this other than trying to cure Jäger of his infatuation that seemed to piss him off personally.

Bandit welcomed him with open arms, his chest burning hot against Jäger’s back. They laid on their sides, pressed against each other intimately, one of Bandit’s legs immediately shoving between Jäger’s. He hadn’t lied about his morning erection, Jäger immediately felt the hard length nuzzling his backside, pushing between his clothed cheeks. Despite the slightly awkward situation, the sensation coupled with the feeling of skin on skin, the warmth Bandit radiated and the gentle hand caressing his upper body was more than enough to turn him on. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the surprisingly tender touches that alleviated his hunger for affection.

“Hold this”, Bandit said and pulled the waistbands of his sweatpants and underwear forwards to allow for better access to Jäger’s stiffening penis. Sensing his hesitation, he explained: “It’s either that or having me rub off on you while we’re both butt naked, your decision.”

“Wait, why are _you_ naked?”

“I was gonna jerk off before you came back, but this is much better.” He breathed the words into the back of Jäger’s neck and made him both shiver and reconsider their arrangement. “Now let me take care of you and relax.”

Jäger bit his lip as a questing hand travelled down his belly and stopped thinking when it wrapped around his member firmly. He could feel it fill with blood and throb in Bandit’s hand, felt Bandit’s hips roll into his. It was undeniably erotic, the familiar atmosphere actually helping him calm down and give in to the efficient strokes. Inevitably, his mind wandered, created the illusion of a taller body behind him, simulated a silky voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear, pretended that the fingers bringing him pleasure expertly (so purposefully, in fact, that he became slightly suspicious) were long and slim and belonged to someone else entirely.

If it hadn’t been Bandit, he’d be tempted to initiate sex, just to finally cater to his forbidden fantasies while experiencing the real deal, regardless of how unfair it would be to his partner. Actually, Bandit might’ve been the best candidate, seeing as how it was impossible _he_ wasn’t thinking of someone else as well – still, that was a rabbit hole he’d prefer to leave the hell alone.

Lost in his dream world, he barely held back his quiet moans, pushed back onto the throbbing cock behind him and saw Jackal’s body again, the long limbs, the shaven crotch, the dark nipples. His free hand was grabbed, moved to the neglected erection, covered with another hand and the Jackal in his mind softly cursed in his mother tongue while he thrust into their intertwined fingers. Both of them panting, both of them close and getting closer, Jäger with his back arched and head thrown back, Jackal silent and desperate in his chase for release.

Jäger came first, the clever hand milking him through the stuttering of his hips, a few seconds of pure bliss, his mind peaceful and his thoughts blank. He sobered up disappointingly fast, noticing faint pain in his shoulders from their uncomfortable position and realising belatedly that Blitz and/or Rook could’ve entered the room at any point. Warm cum splashed on his back and Bandit gasped against his shoulder, making him feel good about not having showered yet. The upside: he wouldn’t have any trouble looking Bandit in the eye after this. They’d had their hands on each other’s genitals before, even if it’d been a different context (namely where at least one of them went ‘oh God am I going to die’) and Bandit seemed immune to embarrassment anyway.

For the moment, his orgasm left him feeling loose and content, a welcomed change to the previous days. If they hadn’t stained him, his clothes _and_ the bed, he would’ve tried to cuddle at the risk of Bandit throwing him out in indignation, so instead they got up, cleaned themselves and dressed. Jäger postponed his shower for breakfast in the hopes that Jackal had already had both and he wouldn’t have to face him after ogling him earlier.

“You know which kind of person is an easy lay?”, Bandit declared out of nowhere while they were leaving their room, walking down the hallway. “It’s not the scantily dressed one. Not the prissy one either – you actually can’t tell from the outside. Do you know what I’m getting at?”

“I can’t wait to hear it.” Jäger didn’t want to encourage him reminiscing about past encounters, though he probably could’ve switched topics entirely and Bandit would remain unfazed and keep talking.

“It’s the one with low self esteem.” He paused dramatically and threw Jäger a side glance. “They’re fucking gagging for validation of any kind, especially the sexual kind. Approach them, make a quickie sound reasonable and like a good deal for both of you and score.”

He stopped in his tracks. It’d been clear that the conversation would somehow loop back to him, only normally Bandit didn’t hit him where it hurt. Not deliberately. Not without re-packaging it to make it look like an amusing joke that ended up slapping you in the face when you bothered to unravel it. Both of them knew enough about his failed attempts at relationships, his self-doubts and insecurities to know this wasn’t funny. “What are you -”

Bandit turned around to face him, lips stretched into a smile. “You know better than letting someone like me take advantage of you. You’re better than that. Don’t ever do that again. Have you looked in a mirror recently? Did you even notice the little Frenchie admiring you from afar before she knew you batted for the other team? Look at your life. You can be seriously proud of everything you’ve achieved so far.”

Bandit didn’t do compliments. He didn’t. And if there was one thing Bandit avoided like the plague, it was talking about _feelings_. Yet, here he was, proclaiming Jäger attractive and successful in a completely misguided and backhanded attempt to lift his spirits. Either he had been hit in the head or… “Oh shit”, Jäger said involuntarily, taking a closer look at his companion, and then hissed: “Are you high?”

And Bandit answered with nothing but a grin.

 

People often asked about him, his past life, the stories surrounding him, and one question came up quite frequently: _Why are you friends with him?_ Sometimes, it was a slight variation: _Why are you_ still _friends with him?_

They reacted similarly. Blitz usually replied with a witty comment pertaining to one of the stories mentioned, whereas Jäger just laughed and said: _I don’t know either._ When they were met with persistence, they either changed the topic or excused themselves. They’d never talked about it in private, their non-verbal vow strengthened by their refusal to acknowledge it so that Bandit remained a secret full stop. If they had come to an agreement, he would’ve been their dirty secret, being discussed behind his back, decisions formed with him excluded. And he didn’t deserve that.

The amount of things they kept to themselves was staggering. They disclosed no information about Bandit’s time undercover, no word about him having served time or about his twin brother. They didn’t know all the details, yet they knew enough, knew enough to simultaneously respect and fear him. Not fear Bandit himself, fear what he would do if he realised they _knew_. The stories were manifold and they refrained from correcting them.

Working undercover was nerve-wracking: the tiniest error could mean catastrophic failure, using the wrong name, forgetting about a detail in the meticulously crafted persona, wearing the wrong watch. One mistake and you were out. Not even out of the operation but out of undercover entirely – news spread like wildfire between criminal organisations and news about rats spread even faster. You could hope to land a job as a trainer, but you could never go back. Never go back to leading a double life, trying to keep two different people alive and breathing in your head without confusing them. If you did well, the reward was bountiful and included eternal bragging rights as well as the guaranteed respect of all your peers. Provided you were allowed to boast about the job. The audience was usually small.

If four consecutive years of this kind of unending pressure and the knowledge that any slip-up could either cost you your life or your career didn’t leave you at least a little unhinged, then you’d already been deranged going in.

Bandit had collected a few tics and eccentricities along the way. Drinking beer subconsciously made him aggressive, he seemed to have lost the ability to sit straight, his sleep was light unless he didn’t have a pillow (in which case he slept like a rock) and he hated the sound of paper tearing to the point of having to leave the room. Additionally, all natural coping mechanisms had been replaced by unhealthy ones.

His reaction to long periods of stress was never predictable. Getting alcohol poisoning used to be a favourite pastime of his, then it was over-the-counter medication, sometimes sex, more often than not obscure experiences he sought out as a distraction. The location of their base helped, there was hardly anything to do or snog or abuse or drink or shoot. One constant remained: he did it alone and he did it in secret, not telling anyone what he was up to and leaving Blitz and Jäger to pick up the pieces.

So they picked them up.

Because here was the other half of what they didn’t disclose. No one but them knew about their very first mission in Rainbow that almost ended in a bloodbath on their side, IQ having been gunned down early and them discovering a VIP of the White Masks. An argument followed between Blitz and Jäger, both eager to prove themselves, both equally loath to step down, both faced with a reckless, ambitious idiot refusing to cooperate. Blitz advocated leaving their prisoner behind in favour of saving IQ, Jäger felt it was feasible to drag both out of the building still swarming with enemies. Bandit had been pacing around the room, hardly noticed by the two hotheads, insistently speaking on comms and finally announced they were ready, their defences built up, their position agreeable.

They stuck it out. When the Russians rescued them, they were greeted by a newly formed team full of grim determination and having captured a live VIP.

No one but them knew about the fierce loyalty that rivalled the nihilism, the desire for destruction, the disillusionment, burning low but exceedingly hot. In a way, Bandit was the proudest person they knew, his casual character cultivated over years. He was unwilling to part with that version of himself, the person who killed and liked it, the one to force his brother into retirement for no other reason than because he could. If Blitz and Jäger were to mention all the things he’d done for them, he would undoubtedly hear about it and have to prove – to himself most of all – that he wasn’t as selfless as they claimed him to be, not dependent on them or anyone really, that no ties existed between him and his teammates. And they were afraid to find out how exactly he would accomplish that.

So they did what they could. They picked up the pieces. They didn’t report him, shielded him from the others, kept both his shortcomings and achievements secret.

And when someone asked them: _Why are you friends with him?_ They evaded the question and changed the topic. Because it was easier than to explain why it was next to impossible not to be.

 

He was lucky enough to only stumble over Blitz while he manhandled Bandit to Doc’s office. Blitz took one look at them and wordlessly turned around to fetch the Frenchman, the situation sadly not unfamiliar. Jäger had enough time to pat down his increasingly joyous friend, but didn’t manage to find any indication of the substance he’d used before Doc and Blitz joined them – the German with a resigned expression, the doctor stoic.

Doc examined Bandit thoroughly, checking his pulse, the dilation of his pupils, his breathing, and briefly announced: “It’s probably Vicodin. Not serious, but it would help to know how much he took and when.”

The other two exchanged a glance. “He didn’t leave his bed until just now and I only left him alone for a short time”, Jäger said.

Blitz nodded. “I’ll go search the room.”

After he’d disappeared, Jäger tried not to let the guilt sink in. Sometimes, Bandit handled stressful situations effortlessly, and sometimes… not so much. It was unfair to expect of himself to magically know which one it was going to be, especially with how secretive Bandit was. Their… encounter just now began to make a lot more sense, Bandit seemed content, free of his inherent tension, fascinated by the smallest things, unbothered by their concern for him. Almost enviable. And completely unlike himself.

“I noticed this morning that two bottles were missing, though I didn’t check yesterday evening.” Doc eyed Bandit’s outstretched hands sceptically, but stepped closer regardless to allow him to feel the leather of his belt. “Maybe the cabinet needs a stronger lock.”

“You worry too much”, Bandit slurred to no one in particular.

“I don’t think that’ll do much. You could bury everything in the forest and he’d still sniff it out”, Jäger replied only half-jokingly. “What does this stuff do? It’s pain medication, isn’t it?”

“A potent one, for how often it’s prescribed. The hydrocodone in it is the reason he took it, gives you euphoria and a nice buzz overall, great for recreational use.” Doc scoffed and gently pried a few pens out of Bandit’s hand that he’d just stolen out of his pocket. “Also slows down your heartbeat, so if you take too much, it can stop entirely.”

Blitz reappeared in the doorway, holding a bright orange pill bottle and looking at Bandit accusingly. “You hid it in Rook’s mattress. Leave him out of this, he doesn’t know – what if he found it? What if someone _else_ found it?”

“Did you search everywhere?”

“All the usual hiding places. I didn’t check for any loose boards or hidden compartments in the wall, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

“There are two bottles missing”, Doc answered in Jäger’s stead.

Blitz turned to Bandit again. “Where did you put the other one?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Leave him to me. I’ll monitor his pulse and make sure he stays here. It’s not like I had any better plans to spend my morning.” With that, Doc shooed them out of his office. At this point, Blitz and Jäger were so indebted to him that he wearily waved away any attempt to thank him properly – he never asked unnecessary questions, never judged, never reported any of Bandit’s incidents. Jäger suspected that Doc knew a great deal about all the operators to begin with, probably was able to access their medical files and even psychological profiles in order to allow him appropriate treatment of all of Rainbow. Maybe Doc knew as much as they did about Bandit. If he did, he never showed it.

An unsavoury idea formed in Jäger’s head. Bandit was far from stupid and must’ve known he’d get caught eventually, so what if he deemed their room a non-safe hiding place? He voiced his worries to Blitz, who agreed with him, and they split up, Jäger now heading to a different room from which loud voices were echoing down the corridor – no, actually, it was _one_ voice and exactly the one he’d been hoping for. He knocked and pushed the slightly ajar door open at the same moment that Ash hissed: “You little bitch.”

The only thing missing from the picture was Ash’s red hair standing up, otherwise her imitation of a furious feral cat was spot on, bared fangs, claws and all. Despite not being significantly taller, she towered over a visibly shaken Mira whose eyes immediately flicked to Jäger’s for help as he entered. “What’s going on?”, he asked concernedly. Previous cat fights initiated by Ash had taken place in plain view, making sure she had a broad audience, and had involved either made up or vastly exaggerated problems. This was different, no public display. Personal.

“Six hired a fucking _thief_ is what’s going on!”, came the emphatic reply from the redhead pointing accusingly at the Spaniard. “Pulse lost his watch a few days ago and guess who ‘found’ it?”

Jäger’s brows furrowed. Not only would it be laughably inane to steal from fellow operators, he also found it hard to believe that someone so recently recruited would jeopardise their position this frivolously. Besides, Mira seemed genuinely intimidated and troubled by the accusation.

Before he could voice his dubiousness though, Ash ranted on: “I know what you’re gonna say, and that’s not the only thing. Stuff’s going missing left and right and returning magically after a while, and it started right when this raccoon joined.”

“I didn’t steal anything”, Mira insisted. “I was about to return Pulse’s watch. I don’t know where the pistol went. Ash, just let me -”

“I _know_ it was you! What do you even do with it, sniff it in your free time? Shove it up your dried up -”

“Ladies, please”, Jäger interrupted them, wincing in discomfort at the indignation on Mira’s face and the righteous fury on Ash’s, “this is not helping anyone. Mira, go and talk to Pulse, Ash, I need to have a chat with you. When you’re calmed down, you can continue this debate like civilised people. Alright?”

Fuming, Mira walked off, leaving Jäger alone with a similarly irate Ash. Definitely not an improvement, as far as company went.

“Here, look at this shit. You’ve probably heard about it from Manu, right?” Since Ash and Twitch were unlikely to be sent on a mission together due to inconsolable differences (or, as Twitch put it: “We’d bite each others’ heads off”), the redhead had started using a shortened version of her first name in an attempt to provoke her while disguising it as familiarity. No one bought it and Twitch didn’t let it get to her.

Jäger’s eyes followed the vague gesture in the direction of Twitch’s bedside table and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first – until he recalled the several frantic calls from the Frenchwoman, distressed about the disappearance of her handgun. Well, there it was, looking innocent and like it belonged and had never been gone. He had to make sure: “Is that the one -”

“She thought went missing? Yeah. I wouldn’t put it past her to have slipped it into her boots and forgotten about it, but she was almost losing it over the dumb thing, insisting someone had taken it. I didn’t believe her then, but it turned up this morning. None of you guys would dare come in here without any of us present, which means either IQ’s in on it or the Spanish bitch actually swiped it.”

Claiming that none of the male operators would’ve dared to sneak into this room was accurate. Jäger wasn’t quite sure how, but the previously three and now four women had an infallible system set up to catch trespassers: maybe the last of them to leave placed a strategic hair somewhere or they poured a small amount of salt on the ground – whatever it was, it had earned Smoke a humiliating display where he’d been basically tarred and feathered with maple syrup and pancakes and left to the mercy of a local ant colony for a while (Ash’s idea, unsurprisingly). After that, no man had ever set foot into the women’s room uninvited again.

However, this led to a troubling conclusion. It meant that either their back-to-back missions had taken a serious toll on Twitch and she simply misplaced her pistol, or Mira had indeed stolen it. Jäger examined Ash’s wrinkled nose, her aggressive stance. There was a third possibility. A third option that would tie in with Jackal’s alleged recklessness and would account for one of the women being the culprit. Someone who could’ve nicked the watch easily and placed it on Mira.

He was not about to openly suspect anyone but he made a mental note to share his thoughts with Twitch later. For now, he would let sleeping dogs lie and hope that his silence on the topic would count as agreeing, it might make Ash more cooperative. “In any case, I wanted to ask you – did Bandit recently give you anything for… safekeeping?”

Instantly, she was on guard, playing for time. She was smart, making sure she wouldn’t share any of the guilt in Bandit’s newest practical joke. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing serious. He took some medicine that Doc’s looking for and would _like_ to have back, but he won’t tell us where he hid it. I thought you might know. You probably want to upset Doc as little as I do.” His white lies were smooth and believable, as easy to swallow as a refreshing drink. They would reassure Ash, let her know she wasn’t in trouble, give her an incentive to disclose her secrets – some people have dared to cross the otherwise perfectly affable Frenchman and regretted bitterly.

For some reason, Ash now looked at him reproachfully. “You know what, he did give me something yesterday evening, some pill bottle. I was gonna bring it back to Doc anyway because who the fuck steals medicine, but hey, guess what. It fucking disappeared. Vanished. I’ve got no clue where it is now. What I _do_ know is whom you should ask instead.”

 

It was like being wrapped in cotton. He showered, ate something he forgot about immediately, checked up on Doc and Bandit (the former as unshakeable as always, the latter mesmerised by everything around him), he went through the motions and tried not to let the overall downcast mood affect him. Most other operators ghosted through the base as if they were hungover, clumped together in groups for emotional support or sought out solitude. Around noon, a message spread by word-of-mouth: their last mission for the moment would take place the next day, the teams, departure time and location already decided. And _of course_.

Of course.

“Of course”, he told Twitch for the nth time.

She didn’t look up from her convoluted notes and instead proceeded to mumble technical jargon to herself, her pencil moving rapidly, only interrupted by reflective pauses or when she rubbed out parts of her equations or diagrams.

“You’ve got the wrong sign there. It’s supposed to be minus, not plus.” He pointed at a random spot on the densely scribbled paper, making Twitch stop and check. When she realised a few seconds later, she finally returned his gaze with a sigh.

“Jäger, mon cher, you know I’m always here for you if you want to talk. But if all you’re going to do is reject any advice, refuse to listen to reason and sulk unproductively, then please let me at least work in peace.”

They were sitting at one of the many empty tables in one of the only rooms that was heated adequately and that therefore allowed for working: the canteen. It was the middle of the day and while they would normally hang around in the workshop, bouncing ideas back and forth and combining their efforts, maybe initiate a larger project together with IQ and even Fuze, Jäger lacked the energy to withstand the cool air in the badly insulated room. They were not alone, the Russians had gathered in the small kitchen area, drinking coffee, laughing loudly and being entirely too lively. He sat with his back to them. Recently, he’d avoided them as much as possible – he wasn’t very good at letting go of small grudges. “They’re not, either”, he pouted and indicated the four Spetsnaz with his chin.

“ _They_ are not actively trying to distract me, though”, Twitch replied with a charitable smile. “Why don’t you accept this as the perfect opportunity to get to know him? You’ve never gone on a mission together before. If you feel like his presence will disturb you, talk to him beforehand.”

Jäger opened his mouth, _this_ close to telling her that Jackal caught him staring at his privates earlier this morning, deciding against it. As usual, she was right and he wasn’t, there was no winning against her arguments, they were substantiated and well-meaning and yet he’d rather saw off his own foot than face the object of his lust in a doomed attempt at a regular conversation. Clearly, a change of subject was required. “Ash thinks Mira took your gun.”

With another heavy sigh, Twitch put down her pencil, apparently resigned to the fate of not being productive. “And I think she’s full of it. Literally the only reason I can think of why anyone would steal it is to mess with me and I can’t imagine Mira doing that, she’s been great. Maybe IQ accidentally took it during one of her work-induced fugue states, but she’s never done anything like that before.”

“It doesn’t stop there though. She called Mira a thief and claimed she took other people’s stuff too.”

Twitch merely shrugged in a what-can-you-do gesture and looked up when someone else entered the room, offered the newcomer a warm smile and a small nod. Jäger didn’t need to turn around to know who it was – the back of his neck prickled, his fingers started itching and his self-preservation skills forbade him even the shortest of glances. Because he knew it wouldn’t be short. Because he knew he’d end up looking the fool again. So he forced himself to concentrate on Twitch, ignoring the smooth voice behind his back, ignored the Russians switching to a more sluggish English, ignoring the ache in his chest.

Desperate for a distraction, he asked about Twitch’s notes and regretted it almost straightaway when he realised not for the first time that hardly anything was more humbling than pure brilliance. Both Twitch and IQ outshone him frequently in their technical understanding, though he still excelled in the hands-on part of building and maintaining gadgets. However, his mind was preoccupied – Bandit would probably need close monitoring in the coming days, a task he’d divide between himself and Blitz, and the situation between Ash and Mira should maybe be reported before it escalated. And then there was the matter of Jackal. And the impending mission.

While he was zoned out, Tachanka’s booming voice unexpectedly ate its way through his consciousness: “Don’t take it personally, Jäger would probably just prefer gargling with your dick over actually talking to you.”

Wait.

Wait, what?

Even Twitch stopped talking, turning the following second of silence cacophonous, roaring, bone-chilling. There was no ambiguity, no misunderstandings, Tachanka had indeed said what everyone thought he’d said and Jäger wished he could die or vanish or be swallowed by the ground. No moment in his life came to mind when he’d been more mortified. This was worse than when he switched groups in kindergarten and no one had wanted to play with him, leaving him crying in a corner. This was _so much worse_.

“He’s choking on his coffee, if you want to run, now’s the time”, Twitch whispered and he could’ve _kissed_ her.

 

The workshop was as deserted as Jäger felt. Despite his deep breaths being visible as small puffs, he barely felt the cold due to the shame burning inside. He’d been found out.

Granted, he’d been anything but subtle – yet had been living in the comforting illusion of Jackal’s ignorance, his confusion at Jäger’s behaviour. Apparently, he _had_ been bewildered, why would he have asked the Russians otherwise? And Tachanka, the blabbermouth, traitor, let the cat out of the bag. He’d been found out.

He buried his face in his hands, feeling the heat of his cheeks on his cool skin. He was used to nursing one-sided crushes, painfully familiar with pining and moping and lusting and, overall, disappointment. As a gay man surrounded by buff guys in the prime of their life, none of this should’ve been new to him. When he was recruited, there were a few he’d looked at twice, some even more than that, but except for Bandit’s ceaseless mocking he’d gained nothing. And Fuze…

Fuze had been peculiar, neither of them honest or communicative, in a way they’d taken advantage of each other, satisfying desires they either knew to be futile or had denied themselves. A flight of fancy, it had left Jäger bitter and imbalanced though none of it had come as a surprise to him. He probably was to blame just as much as the Russian himself, refusing to let him explore his sexuality step by step, instead selfishly taking what he wanted. Maybe it had been revenge for all the things Fuze would call him when they weren’t getting each other off.

But even with Fuze who was undeniably attractive, his lust had been manageable, his poker face convincing, their interactions giving away nothing. Jackal was like a steadily smouldering coal fire even without being present, muddling Jäger’s thoughts with the smoke and blinding him whenever he got too close. He mercilessly invaded his dreams, weighed down his limbs, squeezed his heart and rearranged his insides. Jäger would need sunglasses to look at him directly.

It was demeaning. For both of them. Jäger was sorely aware of this.

The handle clicked, boots softly stepped into Jäger’s chilly hideout, treading around him to his front, fabric rasped over the seating surface of the chair opposite of his, skin came into contact with the rough wood of the table between them. He didn’t need to remove his hands and look up to know who it was, his nose tingled, his arm hair was standing up, his body was restless. He did it anyway.

“I think we should talk”, Jackal said gently.

He was astonishingly human. The dark circles under his eyes probably a result of the onslaught of missions, the smile meant to reassure and calm tinged with embarrassment, his posture indicative of his exhaustion. He looked vulnerable, non-threatening, less confident than when Jäger had first seen him, and yet his irresistibility remained unaltered. His elegant hands were clasped on the table and he was leaning forwards slightly. Their closeness made it harder for Jäger to remember to breathe. He hoped he wouldn’t be required to give directions because he was hopelessly lost. There was no running away now, not without losing what small amount of face remained.

He was _inevitable_.

“I’m so sorry”, he replied earnestly and was too intimidated to avert his gaze, for fear of missing something about the intricate workings of Jackal’s expressions.

“Don’t be, it’s…” The smile deepened (by God he had _dimples_ ), turning a touch self-deprecating. “It’s flattering. Most of all, it’s baffling, I admit, but also…” He trailed off again, searching for the right words. Jäger hoped he’d never stop talking, partly because his voice was like the finest silk and partly so he himself wouldn’t have to reply. “It’s been a while since I’ve evoked this kind of reaction. I’ve asked Elena about you. Actually, I’ve asked everyone about you. I still don’t understand why you would focus your attention on me.”

It was too much. Knowing Jackal had been curious about him, had _asked_ about him, reciprocated probably a fraction of Jäger’s interest, was exhilarating. He mutely stared into the honeyed brown eyes, wishing for even more, a miracle, an admittance of mutual attraction, _something_.

“But, enough of this. I’m not here to cause you discomfort, I’m sorry my presence inconveniences you. I wish to change that and not only because we’ll have to work as a team. I’m greatly honoured to be part of this organisation, and I’d like to gain your trust and offer you friendship as we share a common goal. I heard you’re hard-working and smart, so I’d be delighted for a chance to get to know you.”

Jäger found it inconceivable that anyone on this Earth would be trying to resolve his ‘issue’ this maturely, composedly and _sensibly_. In the worst case, he could be accused of sexual harassment but Jackal seemed to give him the benefit of the doubt, allow him to work through his issues, grant him the chance for redemption. Being used to bull-headed conservatism, prejudices against most everything he stood for and general incomprehension about his emotions, he felt as if a weight greater than he realised was being lifted from his chest. He inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air hurt his throat and tried to find a reply worthy enough for Jackal’s ears to hear.

“Okay”, he said. A good start, he should continue. “I’m sorry.” He’d already mentioned that and Jackal had waved it aside. Still, he seemed to wait patiently. A fantastic sign. Jäger’s confidence skyrocketed. He wasn’t about to be yelled at or judged, wouldn’t have to fear derision or rejection of the worst kind. He could go even further than simple agreement, show Jackal that he was thrilled about the offer, would gladly accept his friendship. “I… would like that, too”, he heard himself say uncertainly.

Perfect.

Jackal nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. “Good. You could start by explaining to me how exactly that marvel of yours works, I’ve never heard of a portable device capable of destroying grenades.”

Familiar territory. Jackal was _serious_ about wanting to reassure him. Jäger’s stomach did something strange.

 

Jackal was an old friend from school with whom he shared worries about his future, the tastiest snacks his mother bought for him and most of his free time without even realising. Jackal was a colleague from GSG9, as battle-weary as he was, paradoxically both disillusioned and starry-eyed with hope, someone with whom he would hang out after hours, meet up on free days, talk for hours on end without even noticing. Jackal was a stranger whom he met through chance alone, clicking with him immediately and aimlessly wandering through the dead of night, someone whom he would miss for the rest of his life without even being aware.

Jackal was someone he met at a bar and desperately tried to get into his bed, flirting, laughing, joking, feeling like nothing was ever good enough, would be good enough, afterwards thinking whether he should’ve tried to be himself, whether _he_ actually was good enough without pretending to be more. Jackal was an acquaintance’s boyfriend with whom he stranded at a gas station in the middle of the night, making light of the situation and connecting on a profound level while they both wished they’d never met their mutual acquaintance because they clearly belonged, yet knowing they never would’ve met _each other_ either, decency pressuring them into forgetting about the whole thing afterwards.

Jackal was everything, enticement, impossibility, familiarity. Talking to him was like sliding into a heated pool of syrup, elating, comforting, sweet, only you realised too late you were drowning and your only hope was cutting out your heart. There were times when they chatted like they’d known each other forever, but then a certain detail came up and Jäger had to revise everything he thought he knew. He madly wanted to impress him, only to find out he was, just not with the things he thought he would be.

And there was _something_.

Jackal’s smiles. The carefree touches. He seemed interested in anything Jäger had to say. He admitted and shared and mentioned things, intimate things, for no discernible reason. He stood a little too closely. He _looked_ at Jäger’s hands. He was intent on prolonging their conversation, eager to switch to a new topic once the previous one was exhausted.

It drove him _insane_. Both possibilities were equally likely, either his head was tricking him, lying to allow him to see what he wished for, over-exaggerating friendly gestures, reading too much into politeness.

Or there really was _something_.

Looking at it from outside, it wasn’t much. They discussed Jäger’s Magpie, decided a demonstration was appropriate and grabbed their jackets to go outside. Jackal showed him the headpiece he wore to missions and Jäger analysed it curiously. They talked. Anyone unfamiliar with them would’ve found nothing out of place, just casual acquaintances killing time.

But they never once stopped talking, even in the beginning when Jäger’s words were hesitant and stumbled and unsure, worried to offend, even in between when their subjects were harsh and grim, even when they realised it was already dinnertime. As if they were afraid that if they got interrupted, they’d never start again. As if they were desperate to keep themselves preoccupied so they wouldn’t be alone with their thoughts. Jäger saw his room, had vaguely been aware that Jackal occupied a room on his own due to sleeping problems, and now he’d been _in_ it like it was nothing, had seen Jackal’s personal belongings strewn around, the bed he rested on and it somehow was distressingly intimate, as if it was a piece of his soul.

And _what_ they talked about. Jackal told him of his brother, the only family he’d ever had, the fruitless hunt for his killers and the hope to find them, maybe through Rainbow, maybe with Six’ aid. He told him how proud he was to be part of this international organisation, its finger on the pulse of ruthless terrorists all over the world. He told him how he met Mira (whom he stubbornly called Elena, insisting Jäger called him Ryad as well, just another one in the long list of familial gestures).

It was everything Jäger had feared and more.

Ryad was kind, attentive, intelligent, inquisitive, thoughtful, much calmer than Jäger would’ve guessed. It was agonising. Every smile seemed made of broken glass, every friendly word like a thorn, their conversations like syrupy torture. Slowly, with every sentence, Ryad carved deeper into Jäger, erecting a monument of himself, cutting away the useless parts around it. And Jäger held the wound closed, smiled back, pretended it was fine.

It wasn’t fine.

He felt like sobbing.

Ryad cared so much about his reputation that it was clear he wouldn’t agree to a relationship, even if he were attracted. He wanted to keep his record clean and Jäger suspected affairs were frowned upon at best and could end your career at worst – it was hard to imagine Six taking action against it with how focused she was, discarding any information that didn’t directly affect the organisation’s efficiency, but still. Rules were rules.

There was a lull. The sun had long set, the two of them illuminated merely by a cold neon light on the outside of the base, both incomprehensibly averse to acknowledging the late hour. Their eyes locked, the contact too intense to be considered innocent. Something inexplicably, inexplicable shifted. Jäger could feel the white light on his skin even through his clothing, noticed a subtle change in Ryad’s expression, sudden warmth rising up in him, his stomach fluttering. He _wanted_ , oh how much he ached to be allowed physical contact as close as their psychical one already was. The air between them seemed to flicker.

Only when Ryad disrupted it did Jäger realise how stretched out their silence had been, but his words made everything around them dissolve anyway. “I understand now”, Ryad said quietly, almost guiltily. Trance-like, he lifted a hand, brushed his thumb over Jäger’s cheekbone, leaving behind an open fire, rekindled. “I understand why you ran, mi cielo.”

Something broke. He was too mesmerised to assess it, but judging by the way it resounded deep inside him, flipped his insides upside down, made him shiver and gasp, it had been something important. Helplessly, he watched Ryad leave, flee, escape like all the times Jäger had before, avoid his presence for fear of losing control or his mind or both. His cheek itched so much he felt like clawing it out, then his legs gave in and he sank to the damp, muddy ground, trying to process the hurricane of emotions threatening to overtake him.

He almost laughed. There really _was_ something. And now that he knew, it made it all so much worse. It was unfair. He would’ve preferred not to know, to assume his infatuation was unrequited, to live in blissful ignorance – but then he realised. He’d set this off. He’d made no attempts to hide his attraction.

Ryad probably would’ve preferred not to know either, yet Jäger had made sure that had never been an option for him. It wasn’t unfair. All Ryad had done was _make_ it fair.

 

Bandit of all people found him still outside. He stood a good distance away, crunching on something that was warm and steaming, his other hand casually in his pocket, looking down at Jäger like one would at a sick cat – pity mixed with reluctance to step closer, thinking about prodding it with the tip of his boot.

Weighing his options, Jäger decided against starting them off with an insult, actually relieved about the company. “What are you eating?”

“Garlic bread”, came the muffled reply through a mouth full of the very same.

“Can I have some?”

“Fuck off, you miss dinner, you get your own food.”

He shouldn’t have expected anything else. “I was talking to Ry- to Jackal.”

“I know.” Bandit swallowed and took another bite during the pregnant pause that followed. “Ryad, huh?”

“You know his name?”

“ _Everyone_ knows his name. Should’ve made it his official nickname if he loves flinging his real identity around so much. Dipshit.”

Jäger paused. He didn’t possess the energy to argue. “It’s not one-sided”, he murmured instead.

“Huh”, said Bandit.

“His job means everything to him.”

“Ah.”

“I’m in trouble. I mean it. Real trouble.”

“Yup.”

He snapped. He was hurting and felt abandoned, denied something that should’ve been rightfully his, and he lashed out, keenly aware of how ugly it was, of how ugly he’d feel afterwards. “Not the kind where it’s enough to just take a chill pill and escape reality for a while like a coward”, he spat and yes, there it was, punctual delivery, one hot pile of regret with additional shame. His anger grew, directed at himself most of all, yet escaping where he was coming apart at the seams.

Bandit blinked at him, once, twice. When he replied, his voice was as cold as the air around them. “He doesn’t belong here. He’s not cut out for the job. He doesn’t deserve it and he definitely doesn’t deserve _you_.”

The jigsaw puzzle was finally complete enough for Jäger to see what it depicted. Bandit’s unmediated, undeserved dislike of Ryad. The hand job. How dismissive he was towards Jäger’s obsession. Small pieces, fitting into each other. He _knew_ there was something off with Bandit. Now that the real reason had dawned on him, he couldn’t wait to let his friend know. “I see. You’re _envious_ ”, he said calmly and carefully watched Bandit’s face twist into an outraged grimace. “You are. That’s it. That’s why you -”

He was ready when the kick came, even from his position on the floor. He caught Bandit’s foot, wrenching it to the side, and made him stumble, placed a vicious kick against his other leg to fell him completely and was on him in seconds. A fist connected with his cheekbone, coincidentally the very same Ryad had brushed against so gently a while ago, and Jäger was elated to turn this into a proper fight. Sometimes, violence seemed to be the only language Bandit understood.

They rolled around, swung and thrashed and grunted, a flurry of limbs. Jäger frequently forgot and was sorely reminded that Bandit was a dirty fighter when he ate a mouthful of mud and only narrowly avoided being kneed in the groin, in return he nailed Bandit’s solar plexus and socked him in the jaw while he wheezed and gasped for air. Jäger ended up straddling Bandit’s midsection, breathing hard and spitting out dirt to the side, both of them exhausted and mindful of their operation the next day, unwilling to continue.

There was something cathartic about it, Jäger having channelled all his dejection and disappointment into his fists. Now there was nothing but a gaping void left inside, a vast absence of emotion and hope, a numbing nihility. Still, his earlier revelation had shaken him: a jealous Bandit could be disastrous. “I’m not going anywhere, you know”, he reassured the other German below him, “nothing would change between us. Besides, nothing _is_ going to change, his job comes first, so I’m not -”

“You’re so fucking _clueless_ ”, Bandit breathed and shook his head. “You have _no_ idea what’s going on.”

“I don’t know what kind of personal vendetta you and Ash have against the two of them, but it needs to stop.”

“Oh yeah?” A bitter laugh, painted into the night air as tiny clouds. “Sure. Whatever.”

“There’s no need to be jealous. We’re still friends, regardless of -”

“Keep talking and I’m going to kick you in the kidneys, that’s a promise. Shut up and get off, you’re heavy.”

Jäger hesitated and was shoved roughly to the side as a result, stood up on shaky legs. Bandit obviously considered their conversation concluded since he was stalking off, not even looking back as Jäger followed him. When they returned to their room, Blitz demanded to know what had happened to them straightaway – they must’ve looked frightful, faces and hands smeared with blood and caked with soil, clothes muddy and torn, expressions dour.

“We fell”, said Bandit. Jäger didn’t say anything at all.

They showered in stony silence.

 

Blitz rarely made the same mistake twice.

After that first mission that left them frazzled and uncertain and yet stronger and more capable, Blitz sought them out individually and probably spent an entire day doing nothing but talk to his team. He learned their strengths and weaknesses, managed to control Bandit better so his untapped energy ended up somewhere useful, convinced IQ she really was in the right place and just needed more confidence, even got Jäger to dial down on his enthusiasm and proved a good enough leader so Jäger never questioned him again. In short: he eliminated unknown quantities.

The more you know about a mission beforehand, the smoother it goes, ultimately you want it to be as boring as possible – which is undeniably easier when you know the men and women behind you well, when you’re aware of their quirks and special skills and worries. Whenever Blitz was assigned with someone he didn’t know too well, he made sure to arrange for a lengthy conversation, in time sensitive situations even just a short talk.

He must’ve been aware of _something_. Jäger, Bandit and Ryad all refused to make direct eye contact with each other, interacted stiltedly, worked around each other whenever they got away with it. The atmosphere was awkward at best and hostile at worst, Bandit laughing gun safety in the face while he played around with his pistol, Ryad openly distracted and barely listening, Jäger glaring at Bandit’s hands and staying mute.

At some point, Blitz pulled him aside, tried to gain at least some information about what was going on, but Jäger brushed him off. He doubted Blitz would understand the longing connecting Ryad and him and he was loath to discuss Bandit. Best to push it aside and concentrate on their job.

Only Blitz was still left in the dark. With too many unknowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy my second longer fic - it wasn't meant to be this long but as always, I got carried away. I'd love to hear opinions, comments, suggestions, criticism, anything really!♥  
> Thanks to everyone who reads, comments and/or leaves kudos, I love you all.


	2. Chapter 2

It had snowed overnight and so a winter wonderland greeted all operators when they’d left that morning: powdered sugar was piled up on every surface, covering the ground up to ten centimetres high and created an illusion of a simpler, purer world. All sounds were muffled, boots crunched with every step and squinting became necessary whenever the sun poked out a little from behind the thick layer of clouds. Snow had started falling again before the German team’s return, yet unlike the others, they didn’t jump at the chance to frolic around. Instead, the three of them waited.

The other teams had reported no issues, no complications, success across the board, terrorists neutralised, hostages that had been taken out of desperation rescued.

Jäger hadn’t even been able to rescue his own team.

His eyes wearily followed the descent of a single flake, undisturbed by wind, as soft as a feather, hard to distinguish from its siblings around it, until it became part of the thick blanket on the ground. Then they snapped up again and searched for the next snowflake that would distract him from their catastrophic failure just for a heartbeat. _She’ll be here when this one lands_ , he thought, and then: _But she’ll definitely be here when_ this _one does._ Yet she wasn’t.

When the double doors finally burst open, he wasn’t the only one who jumped, Bandit and Ash abruptly stopped their incessant low talking, Ryad by the kitchen looked up and Jäger himself slid down from the windowsill. IQ shook herself like a dog to rid herself of all the snow that had amassed on her jacket, removed her hood and nodded. “He’ll make it”, she said confidently and they all sagged in relief, suddenly they were able to breathe again. It wasn’t much, but it was a solace nonetheless. “He’s still unconscious, he lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be fine.”

Bandit claimed her before anyone else could, quietly demanding more details while Ash, forgotten, just shrugged and left them with an air of nonchalance that hurt Jäger’s teeth. Eventually, the other two Germans disappeared as well, IQ visibly irritated and Bandit insistently chewing her ear off. That left Jäger and Ryad. Against all reason, they locked eyes across the room and Jäger’s legs developed a mind of their own, carrying him remorselessly over to the only person capable of turning his frozen innards into lazily bubbling magma. He leaned against the fridge next to him, no closer than he would with any other colleague, yet the hairs on his arms seemed to reach out to him, his ears picked up on a non-existent sizzling and crackling.

For the first time since Jäger had laid eyes on him on that fateful earth-shattering day, Ryad looked his age. His wrinkles had deepened, his beard somehow seemed unkempt instead of carefully groomed, his eyelids drooped, the corners of his mouth were affected by gravity; he looked devoid of joy, repentant, and still Jäger wanted him so much his throat constricted. “Why didn’t you tell her it wasn’t you?”, he asked softly.

Ryad stared at his own hands and Jäger knew what he saw, hadn’t had the chance to familiarise himself with the particular pattern but didn’t doubt Ryad had, a vivid crimson that simultaneously represented life and the loss of it, viscous and slightly sticky, well-known to all of them. Yet this time, it had been different. It had been innocent.

All of it had contributed, all of it manifested as dominoes, neatly lined up, one after the other. Bandit’s jealousy: one domino. Jäger’s infatuation: one domino. Ryad’s infatuation: another one. Blitz’ concern: another one. The list was long and the finger that brushed the very start of it, that made the first domino wobble and eventually fall and crash into the next one, had been a loud curse in their earpieces, half of an insult, the beginning of an argument, and then gunshots ringing through the building, loud enough for Blitz and Jäger and IQ to hear them.

Then, terror. Ryad’s voice. Shock, disbelief, a staccato of unfinished shouts, and Jäger feared the _worst_ , loathed himself for not objecting more to Blitz pairing the other two to scout, turned around, ready to bolt and run all the way to the two, to Ryad, and then IQ screamed. Blitz hit the ground even before Jäger could turn his head. A huge gash had appeared on the side of his neck, bubbling life essence and if IQ hadn’t reacted so quickly and disposed of the straggler who’d managed to land a shot where it _counted_ , all three of them might’ve died.

Bandit’s voice, cold and ignorant of Blitz’ fate: _The hostage is down._

When Jäger arrived a few minutes later, having sent IQ off with Blitz’ lifeless body, the other two had done as instructed and hadn’t left the room. Ryad was kneeling on the floor, a young woman – maybe a teenager, maybe even that fucking young – cradled in his hands, in his lap; he was restless, as if he could put her back together somehow, around him more carnage that Jäger didn’t even acknowledge because those men were _supposed_ to be dead, unlike this woman. Asking was unnecessary, Bandit answered his silent question from one corner of the room where he’d slouched down on a chair that was dripping with blood, his face giving away nothing: _She was wearing a mask_. That was all he said.

He’d shot her.

Later, when Six tore into them personally, no word escaped their mouths. Bandit didn’t admit to doing it. Ryad didn’t admit to watching him do it. They sat there, immovable, pale and shaking and refused to talk while the helicopter blades whirred over their heads. Six had flown out especially for this. She asked them: _Didn’t you notice she wasn’t holding a weapon? Didn’t you notice it was a woman? Didn’t you notice her hands were bound?_ No reply. The two of them were placed under house arrest until further notice and with the threat of additional punishment.

Six threw them out of the helicopter, only allowing IQ to accompany her to the hospital, Blitz’ condition unknown to them. She seemed fond of their team leader and often communicated with him, Tachanka and Sledge first about upcoming plans. Jäger had never seen her so upset. Jäger had also never felt this guilty.

“It didn’t matter”, Ryad said, voice cracking. “I would’ve shot her. If he hadn’t done it, _I_ would’ve.”

“Did he pressure you? Did he tell you to keep quiet?”

“We were both in a combat mindset. I can’t be sure that I wouldn’t have…” He seemed deeply troubled and Jäger wished he could do something, anything, to help. It pained him to see Ryad so defenceless. “At least Blitz is alright.”

“Yes”, Jäger said simply. He noticed his hands were balled into fists and made a conscious effort to unclasp them, give them something to do. That something turned out to be lightly touching Ryad’s hand that was limply hanging by his side. His fingertips brushed over tanned knuckles, ran along the veins and sinews, went up to the wrist and then back down, explored the soft skin between the fingers. Even this felt electric, eliciting a deep thrum inside him, demanded all his attention. Both of them had failed at their jobs earlier, Blitz had gotten badly hurt and a civilian whom they should’ve protected had died at their hands. Yet there was nothing they could do now. They had to accept and move on.

Ryad’s hand closed over his. They weren’t looking at each other. Jäger stopped breathing. The position was awkward, Ryad was only holding on to the tips of his fingers yet allowed for adjustment, so Jäger moved his hand, felt the soft palm, the lines making their way through it and halted when a thumb stroked over his hand, the touch unbelievably sensual, sending small shock waves through his body. He inhaled sharply and interlaced their fingers in a possessive, demonstrative gesture that felt like a leap of faith. Ryad squeezed his hand. Never before had a touch this pure ignited a fire this wild in Jäger, his heart drumming in his chest.

“Please”, said Ryad and sounded as broken as Jäger had felt the evening before, realising he wasn’t alone, realising he wasn’t allowed still.

Walking away was one of the hardest things he’d done today. Seeing Blitz hit the floor had been out of his control, dragging him to safety necessary, witnessing the deafening silence in the helicopter unavoidable. Leaving Ryad behind when they both knew they needed the comfort was heartbreaking.

 

Life went on. When Jäger exited the base into a mild snowstorm, he could already hear exhilarated laughing and screaming, so many people unaware of and unconcerned by his inner turmoil. He’d forgotten to bring his jacket, unwilling to breathe the stuffy air in the base for one second longer, so he shoved his hands (one of which was tingling, itching) into the pockets of his jeans and strode around the building to a larger open area.

The GIGN operators hadn’t returned yet, but SAS, the FBI and Spetsnaz had started a war without them, apparently everyone having joined an alliance but the Russians. Regardless, they were evenly matched, Fuze doing his best to imitate a snowball cannon and Glaz mostly content with merely forming nearby snow into ammunition. There also seemed to be some self-sabotage going on, Mute dumping a large handful of snow into Smoke’s collar and Ash secretly aiming at Sledge instead of Kapkan who stood tall on the bench behind which his teammates were taking cover, yelling in Russian and getting hit in the face an alarming amount of times.

The childish joy they all displayed was strangely calming and Jäger barely noticed the icy coldness trying to dig its way into his bones while he watched the other Rainbow members’ unbridled happiness. He assumed Ash had already informed them of Blitz’ condition because no one seemed to pay him any attention save for Glaz who made direct eye contact for a second. He then turned to Fuze, pulling at his sleeve and arguing a bit until Fuze blushed madly, threw Tachanka (who seemed absorbed in his task) a worried glance and then slipped out of his thick coat, exposing his muscled arms. Jäger sighed inwardly. Why couldn’t he have stayed fixated on _him_?

To his surprise, Glaz extracted himself from the fight and stepped over to him. “You’re freezing”, he stated matter-of-factly.

Jäger’s pride flared up and he was about to decline the proffered coat when all his teeth did was chatter, so he resignedly accepted it. It was like a comforting hug, warm from Fuze’s body heat and soft and _perfect_. He relaxed, crossed his arms and sank even deeper into the piece of clothing that was at least one size too big. “I don’t suppose you’re sharing?”, he heard himself ask and could’ve smacked himself for his big mouth.

Luckily, Glaz didn’t seem offended at all and only smiled. “The coat is all I’m willing to share, I’m afraid. How is he doing?”

“Blitz is still unconscious, lost blood, but he’ll live. Didn’t Ash let you know?”

“Her words were ‘he’s fine’. I wanted to make sure.” Jäger scoffed. He thought that maybe if he himself wasn’t so resentful, he might like Glaz. “How is Jackal?”

And there it was, the other reason why they hadn’t become friends yet – perceptive people intimidated Jäger. He had no doubt Glaz had known of his crush since day one, was possibly the one to betray him to Tachanka who was ultimately to blame for the mess that – no. He sighed. He couldn’t even convince himself it wasn’t his own fault. “Not great. How much have you heard?”

“Nothing much. A hostage died. And somehow, Bandit and Jackal were involved. The rest sounds like speculation to me.”

“Bandit shot her and guilt tripped Ryad into keeping mum.”

“Like I said.” Bright blue eyes searched Jäger’s face patiently. “I don’t assume. Though I can’t imagine either situation having a positive impact on Jackal’s sleeping patterns.”

“Glaz, am I an idiot?”

The smile returned full force and Jäger regretted the question. But instead of mocking him, the young Russian turned to watch his countrymen win a snowball fight three versus eight and thought for a while. “I can only judge based on what I’m seeing and all I see is two people who admire each other from afar. As far as I can tell, there are no outside forces keeping them apart, so clearly it’s more complicated than I’m aware. But whatever reasons you have, I’m sure they’re far from idiotic.”

“No outside forces?”, Jäger repeated stupidly.

“There are no rules against it. I checked.”

“There are no -” He was getting choked up.

“You didn’t know?”

“No, I -” He could feel moisture welling up in his eyes at the thought that maybe, _maybe_ , all of this could’ve been averted, all this agony and suffering and penance.

“In that case, you should inform Jackal, but it’s entirely possible there are other, personal reasons he kept his distance. He didn’t seem to be worrying about an official rebuke yesterday evening.”

“You talked to him?”

“I overheard. He seemed…” A short pause, furrowed brows. “…shaken.”

“I’ll – I should go. We should – I’ll talk to him.” Jäger’s mouth was filled with styrofoam, barely usable and not enunciating clearly, getting stuck between words. He attempted to unzip the coat, his trembling fingers missing.

“Keep it on, he probably won’t even notice. Good luck.”

“Okay.” He staggered off, thoughts racing, dwelling on the hope that it was going to be _alright_ , that he could talk this through with Ryad, that he might not have to suffer anymore. Several times, he tripped over his own feet, forgetting the familiar layout of the base and hitting curbs and other obstacles hidden under the white surface without caring. The skin under his fingernails was pulsing, his blood roared in his legs and his cheeks hurt from what he identified with effort as a bright smile. A spring in his step, he swept into the base, ready to seek out whom he’d abandoned so foolishly prior to his revelation.

His enthusiasm faded exponentially with every second he couldn’t lay eyes on Ryad. Had he encountered him immediately, he would’ve retained his hopefulness, but the longer he searched the less confident he grew. Glaz’ words repeated in his mind: _It’s entirely possible there are other, personal reasons he kept his distance._ Maybe he’d misinterpreted. Maybe there was a larger picture he was missing. Maybe Ryad had principles he considered more important than official guidelines.

Still. He needed to know.

When Ryad opened the door to his room, he seemed composed and weirdly unsurprised, as if he’d been expecting nothing else. He’d changed into comfortable clothes, rid himself of the blood-stained uniform and appeared before Jäger as more than just a desirable body, a personified dreamscape created purely for pleasure. He was a friend, a brother-in-arms, a comrade in suffering, a weeping soul seeking solace. They remained, unmoving, until Ryad finally closed the gap between them, pulled Jäger into a tight embrace and carded one hand through his hair, the affectionate gesture conveying unmistakably that this wasn’t meant as a friendly hug. It was more.

Jäger succumbed to the sensation, leaned his head against Ryad’s shoulder and reciprocated the gesture, dug his fingertips into the other’s back, felt his shoulder blades and his spine, successfully convinced himself this was real. The smell of Ryad’s aftershave induced a flashback of their first meeting and concern flared up at the fact that he was _still_ enticed by the Spaniard, still regarded him with wonder and amazement, only now a plethora of other emotions had joined. He didn’t know why they were standing in the doorway, clinging to each other while drowning in each other, he only knew he never wanted it to end.

“It’s not prohibited”, he heard himself murmur into Ryad’s shoulder. “There are no rules, it’s… it’s fine.” Those fingers were slowly but surely massaging the tension out of his body, gently running over his scalp and soothing his frazzled nerves. He could barely remember what he’d been doing a minute ago, why he’d been so apprehensive – everything was going to be alright. How could he believe otherwise, safely wrapped in Ryad’s arms? Exhaustion was catching up to him, weighing down his bones.

Somehow, Ryad understood him and answered in a deep rumble Jäger could feel in his temples: “I know, mi cielo. Even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t care at this point. I need you.”

It came crashing down on him, washing over him like a spring tide, rushing him off his feet: it was a blur, an amalgamation of stress, anxiousness, trepidation, all the things occupying his mind, it was Blitz bleeding out, Bandit spitting venom and self-destructing, Ryad’s despairing expression while he held onto an innocent, extinguished young woman’s life, Ash’s and Mira’s irate faces, all the lies and deceit and envy and guilt. And here he stood, part of the reason Jäger’s thoughts were running haywire, offering himself. He couldn’t make all of it go away, wouldn’t be able to close the gashes but he could keep it at bay and dress the wounds.

“He could’ve _died_ ”, Jäger voiced a fraction of his anguish before he could speak no more and Ryad moved him, shut the door, laid him down on the bed and pressed them together to make it impossible to breathe. Jäger felt incapacitated, powerlessly held on and let one sob slip through his iron defence, his dignity forbidding him any more. Instead, he gasped for air, shuddered, refused to talk, hid his face. Somehow, being _allowed_ this, his limbs intertwined with Ryad’s, knowing the Spaniard cared so deeply – it gnawed at his composure, amplified his emotions. He was so used to holding them in he forgot what the opposite felt like.

Ryad granted him all the time he needed, mumbled reassuring nothings, kissed the top of his head gingerly, held him impossibly close. His comforting presence helped Jäger quieten again, compose himself, focus on the present. Warm hands held him together. “I pictured our first time in bed a little differently”, a calm voice purred, reverberating through Jäger’s body and he couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “You know him well. Tell me about him.”

Yes, he could do that. There were countless stories about Blitz and thinking about them would distract him from his failures. It sounded like a plan. “Take your top off first.” Ryad’s dimples showed again while he complied, discarding his shirt in favour of smooth, caramel coloured skin that Jäger’s hands greedily explored before he realised he was still wearing Fuze’s coat. In the end, they stripped down to their underwear, their state of undress weirdly natural, familiar – there was no underlying sexual tension, no second thoughts, only skinship. Their foreheads touched, their legs enlaced, their gazes locked. And Jäger started talking.

If he were forced to explain what exactly happened during the next few hours, he wasn’t sure whether he could. The understanding between them ran deep, they talked about whichever topic was on their mind, Blitz, Bandit, their past, their future, but it wasn’t only about that. They kissed until Jäger’s face was pink from Ryad’s beard and their heartbeat had quickened and they felt dizzy but it wasn’t only about that. They got hard several times and rubbed their clothed erections against each other, even pulled them out once and gently rocked into each other to completion but it wasn’t only about that. Whatever was happening was bigger than the sum of its pieces.

“You’re gorgeous”, Ryad said at some point that felt like an eternity later in between kisses and chuckled at the grimace Jäger made. “No, really. When I saw you, I wanted you to like me immediately so I could look at you more.”

“And when I saw you, my brain imploded”, Jäger shot back and earned a flattered smile.

“You really are stunning, though. And I would like to make love to you now.” The words were followed up with an almost chaste press of lips that, in context, set Jäger ablaze nonetheless. “As much as I want this to last forever, I can’t resist you.”

The slight accent to his silky voice made the proposition all the more alluring and eclipsed all of Jäger’s initial fantasies, his mental image of them falling over each other, blind in desire, driven by lust – when this, _this_ , quelled the restlessness inside him. He couldn’t remember anyone ever calling whatever he was doing _making love_ , had thought the term cheesy, though now he could finally see its appeal. In a way, they’d already done it once, their lips locked and lengths touching, _made love_. Ryad was the epitome of unhurried and soft and affectionate and the prospect of enjoying him this intimately was beguiling.

Ryad climbed on top of him, his beard ticklish at Jäger’s neck and his lips velvety. Over a relatively short amount of time, his face has changed its shape from something wondrous to something wondrously familiar, every line and hair reassuring like a mosaic with every piece in its place. After all the days of futile attempts to avoid staring at him directly, Jäger could look his fill now, glow under his igniting gaze. It was freeing. He basked in the affection lavished on him, felt a trail of kisses down over his collarbone to one of his nipples and then a tongue swiping over it. The gesture was electrifying in its bluntness, a clear sign: Ryad wanted him.

Heat rose up in Jäger, desire pooling in his groin as those lips closed over his bud, suckling gently and accompanied by fingertips tracing his ribs and feeling the dip of his flat stomach. “Don’t stop”, he whispered and his answer was one of the hands moving to his other nipple, stroking it in time with the kitten-like licks over the other. He’d always been sensitive there, now it had increased manifold and sent jolts of pleasure through his nervous system, making his thighs twitch and his back arch. His member was rapidly filling with blood, straining against the confines of his shorts and pressing against Ryad straddling him.

Once Ryad realised how much it affected him, he slowed down, decreased the intensity, teased the hard nipples persistently in order to achieve maximum effect. His tantalising touches made Jäger whine impatiently, grind up against what little friction there was, chew on his lip in an attempt to keep quiet. When Ryad’s mouth switched sides, Jäger had no choice but to accept his fate and succumb to the torture. It was worth it; whenever Ryad glanced up with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he seemed so _pleased_ to affect Jäger this much, to cause these reactions. With a last lick and a last kiss to the middle of Jäger’s chest, the Spaniard stopped the maddening teasing and asked: “What would you like me to do, mi cielo?”

He was being sincere. He was genuinely asking and seemed ready to perform whatever feat Jäger demanded, whether it be feeding him his cock while sitting over him or doing him up against a wall, everything was possible. The choices were endless. He was a djinn ready to fulfil his wishes without protest and hesitation. Jäger had never received a blank cheque like this, not in _earnest_ , Ryad genuinely wanted nothing but satisfy him. Jäger wasn’t sure how to react. “Undress?”, he suggested – a good start.

“With pleasure.” Ryad stood up, rid himself of the last piece of clothing and did the same for Jäger, kneeled between his legs and spent a while just admiring the nude body in front of him. Jäger did the same. Even like this, Ryad was still tall, towering over him with his slender, graceful body, his skin a stark contrast to Jäger’s pale one, his jutting erection hard and thick. He reminded Jäger of a likeable spy film villain, all suave and well-groomed and factually irresistible in a suit. Or out of it. Wearing anything, really. He bit his lip. “You are _exquisite_ ”, Ryad informed him and Jäger wanted to laugh because he didn’t understand why Ryad desired him.

He reached out, pulled the Spaniard down towards him and licked into his mouth, held him tight and _purred_ while hands roamed his torso. It was sugary and loving and all sorts of things Jäger usually avoided only now he _felt_ the butterflies and the fluttering and the dizziness. He was hopelessly lost and would never recover, Ryad had conquered and slain him, taken residence inside his skin. “I want you”, he told Ryad quietly, sinking into chestnut eyes that were almost all pupil, “inside.” The word carried more meaning than any dirty talk Jäger had ever uttered in his life, it lay heavy on his tongue and filled what little space remained between them.

Ryad flashed him a radiant smile that dazzled Jäger until it slowly faded. “I would love to, mi cielo, but do you have anything?”

His mind needed a moment to process the question. “Wait. Wait, no, I don’t -” He wasn’t going to walk to his room like this, definitely not, though the alternative seemed worse. Then he had an idea. “Give me a second.” He rolled off the bed and bent down to pick up Fuze’s coat as curious hands cupped his cheeks and fondled them affectionately. While he searched the numerous pockets, Ryad wrapped his arms around Jäger’s waist, pulling him back gently and mouthing at his side, his hipbones, his lower back, the kisses distracting enough for Jäger’s fingers to halt several times. When he finally found what he’d sought, he murmured: “I _knew_ it. Those filthy Russians.”

“Why do you have that jacket anyway?”

“Because Glaz is a mother hen. And I’m _very_ glad I have it right now.” He turned around to proudly present the small tube to Ryad and was not at all prepared for the Spaniard to simply keep lapping at him because now the head of his cock was surrounded by soft lips and a tongue swirled over it and his knees almost buckled. He breathed an _oh God_ and grabbed Ryad’s shoulder for support, overpowered by the sudden stimulation and holding on for dear life. “Let me – let me lie down again”, he begged breathlessly and Ryad merely smiled sweetly around his shaft and began sucking. Jäger was enveloped in wet heat and sinful suction – coupled with the angelic face looking up at him, he was beginning to melt.

Ryad plucked the lube out of his hand and bobbed his head a last toe-curling time before pulling off. “May I?”

And good Lord, he was serious _again_ , requesting permission in all honesty when Jäger’s despairing gaze would’ve been consent enough. “Yes, yes please”, he rasped and climbed back onto the bed, spreading his legs, offering himself like a willing sacrifice, voluntarily surrendering himself to his inevitable doom. There was no other way to put it. His heart throbbed when Ryad openly looked him up and down once more, as if he’d never tire of the sight of him, taking his time in acquainting himself with Jäger’s body. His hands roamed restlessly, came into contact with scars without hesitation, glided over birthmarks and muscles and more intimate places, spread him apart and touched him everywhere.

Jäger didn’t know what to do. He revelled in the caresses and remained clueless still, asked himself _what does he want from me?_ Did he want Jäger to eagerly stretch towards the affectionate fingers, shy away in mock modesty? Was he supposed to pull him in for a kiss, give orders, reciprocate? Ryad stayed silent, an enigma over which Jäger was obsessing so much it distracted him even from the slick finger circling his rim, putting slight pressure on it. He lifted his arm and stroked over Ryad’s smooth beard for the want of doing _something_. The Spaniard turned his head, kissed his palm, took hold of his hand, added another kiss to his fingers and pushed it back down again.

He thought of – was it really only the day before? – when they had talked, the air cold, the ground not yet painted white, the cool light outside not the only thing flickering and fizzing. He thought of wanting to impress Ryad. He thought of Ryad being impressed by other, small, insignificant things instead. He wasn’t _supposed_ to do anything. He was allowed to act as he wished.

That’s when he relaxed and that finger slipped inside and he had the wild thought _this is it, this is what I’ve been waiting for my entire life_. Ryad leaned back down and sucked him into his mouth again, massaging the underside with his tongue. He hummed contentedly whenever the flesh between his lips throbbed, the vibrations reverberating in Jäger’s lower half. Regardless, Ryad’s pace stayed the same, every upwards slide agonisingly slow and still inescapably adding to the lust hazing Jäger’s brain. When the second hand crept up his chest and started teasing one of his nipples again, he couldn’t hold back the noises clawing their way out of his throat anymore.

He just lay there, hopeless and helpless, being opened up by those elegant hands for which he’d longed days, if not weeks. He felt no impatience, only bliss blooming in his body, discarding all worries and fears for the moment. He felt the fingers moving, an indescribably erotic sensation where before it had often been a necessity. He idly wondered how many there were by now, it could be two or three. Ryad was dismantling him from head to toe, worshipping his erection with a previously unknown devotion, sucking all of Jäger’s inhibitions out of it.

The loss was sharp when he lifted his head, regarding Jäger lovingly while continuing to scissor his fingers. “Mi cielo, what is your – how do you say it? Refractory period?” The fact that his voice sounded slightly hoarse was an incredible turn on.

“With you?” Jäger laughed breathlessly. “Unusually short, I’d say.”

“So it’s alright if you come down my throat first?”

Another laugh, this one slightly hysterical. This was ridiculous. Ryad was going to be the death of him with that expectant, innocent expression and the seed to so many dirty fantasies spilling from his mouth. “Yes. Yeah, Ryad, that’s – it’s more than alright. I’d love that.”

A smile eliciting so much warmth it could melt the snow on the outside windowsill, then a crook of two, maybe three fingers, a light pinch to his nipple and firm lips wrapping around him. Jäger moaned as he felt his eyes roll back into his head, now knowing there was no need to hold back anymore. Ryad was hitting all the right spots, stimulated the most sensitive places and looked _luscious_ while doing so. The mere knowledge he wanted Jäger to empty himself inside had his skin heat up and he was on the best way to achieving his goal.

From there, it didn’t take long. Jäger was too desperate, had waited a perceived eternity for a single touch and gained so much more now. His thighs were trembling, his stomach muscles tensing with every leisurely bob of Ryad’s head, his passion climbing and climbing until he was flung off the edge, as much by the physical stimulation as the fact that it was _Ryad_ causing all this. It was violent, explosive, his cock pulsing and spurting viscous liquid that Ryad kept on his tongue, savoured for a bit before swallowing, the added motions forcing a strangled moan out of Jäger. He let his orgasm wash over him in quick, relentless waves, pleasure swelling up to the point of pushing the air out of his lungs until it was replaced by pure, unbridled elation on which he drifted for a few blissful seconds.

When he came down, he was overjoyed to realise Ryad was still as handsome as ever. Sometimes, the act of sobering up left him disillusioned, slightly regretful, empty, only now it was the complete opposite. He returned Ryad’s devoted gaze after he’d licked him clean and felt nothing but a deep affection, a desire to hold and keep and stay, and even when he noticed the fingers still inside him, the sensation of fullness almost uncomfortable, all he wanted was to continue and never stop. “Come here”, he said quietly and held out his hands, the need for proximity overriding the want for _more_.

Ryad obeyed without question, removed his fingers gingerly, pressed his gainly body against Jäger’s and nuzzled his cheek, arched into his hands when Jäger ran them over his back. Jäger reached between them, parted his legs further, took hold of Ryad’s hot length and stroked it, drinking in the soft gasps his gentle movements caused. His lust was sated, his passion satisfied and still his body demanded for all of Ryad. While the Spaniard nibbled at his ear, he reached for the lube, apologised to Glaz in his mind and poured a generous amount into his palm – not without ulterior motives, the less sore he was, the more often they’d be able to have sex. Ryad actually _moaned_ at him slicking up his member, massaging it lovingly and making sure to stroke it from base to tip, his fingertips registering every tiny vein on the way, the silky skin, the ridge of the head. The moan right by his ear shot through his body and prompted his spent penis to twitch feebly.

There was no need to ask, Ryad lifted his head so they could look into each others’ eyes, mesmerised, as Jäger guided his cock closer, holding it steady and biting his lip when it came into contact with his ring of muscle, blunt and slippery and burning hot. They watched each others’ reactions closely, Ryad slowly entering him, opening him up. It was intense and intimate and incredible, they were finally connected, they became _one_ , Jäger was being filled and fell into those gorgeous eyes that held his, full of wonder and feeling. Ryad was deliberate, he was no crush, no flight of fancy, no futile infatuation. He was completely inside now. Jäger was getting light-headed.

“When we parted yesterday”, Ryad murmured and kissed Jäger’s forehead, his brows, “your image was burned into the inside of my eyelids.” His cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth. And Jäger couldn’t help it, he chuckled at the odd choice of words, the over-the-top metaphor, the ticklish kisses. “Don’t laugh in the face of romance.” Now there was no doubt that he knew how ridiculous he was being even though they both were aware only part of it was meant jokingly.

“You’re so -” Jäger was full-on giggling now which only got worse at Ryad’s amused grin. “You’re so _mushy_. What are you even saying?”

“I wanted to sweep you into an alcove and ravish you.” He was attacking Jäger’s neck now, making him writhe and squeal in between bursts of laughter. “You are but a delicate flower and yet I hunger to taint you.” His rumbling voice could be felt in Jäger’s chest and didn’t help against his fit, he snorted whenever he saw his lover’s face and ultimately even started to cry from trying to suppress his chortles.

They took a while to calm down, Ryad had gotten caught up in the laughter as well, and it took even longer before he was allowed anywhere near Jäger’s neck without him flinching and squeaking like a rusty hinge. Somewhere along the way, Ryad had started tentative motions, a shallow push and pull that felt more like a reminder than actual stimulation. They kissed in between fond smiles until Jäger suggested: “Sit up. I want to see you.” Ryad complied, righting himself and switching to a soft roll of hips, sensual and so erotic that Jäger’s attention was involuntarily drawn to the movements.

“You’re delectable.” Ryad was watching him with an almost proud expression. “I can hardly believe we’re actually here. If you want me to go faster, just let me know.”

“No, keep going like this. You feel sensational.” He was the perfect size, enough girth to allow for a tight slide yet not big enough to hurt. Jäger could get used to this. He feared he already was. “I dreamed about you. The first night.”

“It’s fate, mi cielo, if I’m already invading your dreams, there’s nothing you can do but give in.”

Jäger snorted. “Don’t you start again.”

“What was your dream?”

Ryad rubbed over his sweet spot and he took a moment to adjust the angle, enjoy the feeling. His eyes closed by themselves and his length was starting to stiffen again. “I’m – _ah_ – I’m too embarrassed to talk about it.”

“No, no, you can’t mention it and then refuse to disclose any details. That’s unfair.” Ryad adapted, ground his hips against Jäger’s and earned a moan in return. “I demand satisfaction.”

Jäger grinned. “Absolutely not. I’ll tell you this much: we were doing something very similar to what we’re doing now. Only more frantic. And possibly in my bed, not yours.”

“Where everyone can just walk in? Risqué, mi cielo. And your subconscious sent you this the night we met?”

“Tormented me with it, more like. That’s partly the reason why I stared at you all the time.”

“At first I thought you hated me and that Twitch was your lover. And then I was not so sure.”

“You mean when I ogled you in the shower.”

“I had half a mind to chase you down and peel off every layer so you could join me.”

The mental image was intriguing, he could see all his defences drop the moment Ryad’s hand closed over his wrist, his wet, glistening body pressing against Jäger’s clothed one and he wouldn’t _care_ , would gladly sink into the tight embrace, their mouths seeking and finding one another, eternal in that one heartbeat. It might’ve prevented a lot of grief and guilt, the falling out with Bandit, the bullet through Blitz’ neck. Maybe even the death of a young woman. He almost asked why Ryad didn’t do it, didn’t reach out to him. He didn’t. He refused to spoil the mood and besides, Ryad’s thrusts were picking up now, becoming more thorough and deep, reaching all the way into Jäger’s insides.

“I think I’ve never talked this much during sex before”, he said instead and saw Ryad’s face light up in amusement. “Or laughed, for that matter.” It had begun as a necessity, something he did more for others than for himself, something to brag about and drag out into the open for everybody to see, allowing its details to be picked apart, analysed, mocked. Sex was essential, hesitant lovers prudes, a fulfilling romp with a stranger worth more than a boring evening with familiarity, only when Jäger realised he’d sabotaged all hope for a lasting relationship, it was too late. He was drowning in work, travelling making anything but intermittent affairs impossible, and so he’d joined Rainbow vaguely disillusioned and resigned to his fate. He hadn’t even been aware of his strong urge for someone to rely on, someone to adore and be adored by.

Ryad allowed for him to turn the page, start a new chapter, leave all previous disasters behind.

This wasn’t about getting off, the perpetual friction was distracting and pleasant though hardly enough, this was about enjoying themselves and each other, a notion Jäger had never entertained before. Whatever they were doing, they cared more about the voyage than their destination. His hips were meeting Ryad’s movements now, the repetitive motion soothing and pleasant by itself, the fact that the Spaniard slid deeper into him like this a bonus. Jäger’s eyes fell shut once more for a few minutes. It reminded him of floating on the ocean, waves gently bobbing him up and down, the sun warming his skin, his limbs drifting loose and relaxed, a primal sort of contentment coursing through him.

“You’re beautiful”, Ryad told him and grabbed his hipbones, guided them so the head of his cock hit all the right places on every lazy slide in. “If you want to stay the night, I’ll make sure to wake you up by putting my mouth wherever you want it.”

“Every time I think there’s no way you can be more tempting than you already are”, Jäger replied with a dreamy smile, “and every time you prove me wrong. Of course I’d like to stay. Here, lift me up.” He stretched out his arms and Ryad pulled him into an upright position in his lap, both of them sitting in the middle of the bed now, huddled closely together. Jäger felt fingernails lightly scratching his back and shuddered before wrapping his arms around the slender torso and moving his hips.

They stayed like this for what felt like hours, Jäger riding gently and Ryad caressing his nipples with his tongue, a possessive arm around his waist, hot breath on his skin, both of them covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Now they weren’t talking, there was no need, both of them lost in the sensation of unity, passion clouding their minds. In this position, Jäger felt Ryad’s hard member keenly, invading his body time and time again, reaching deep and adding to the lust caused by his clever mouth. He realised for the first time they were _actually_ sleeping with each other, making love, being as intimate as it gets and the epiphany was thrilling.

One of Ryad’s hands wrapped around the back of his neck, thumb behind his ear, the gesture sending a shock of pleasure into his groin, and pulled him into a searing kiss while he continued to satisfy himself on Ryad’s cock. It got sloppy quickly, their tongues dancing and Jäger moaning into the other’s mouth every time he sat down on the thick erection. “I’m close”, Ryad whispered and switched to Jäger’s collarbone, suckling and scratching lightly with his beard. “How about you?”

Jäger nodded with a hum and felt his legs tremble as long fingers encircled his own dick, pumped it slowly and spread all the fluid it’d leaked around the head, smoothing the skin-on-skin contact. The fire in him was now burning full force, roaring in his limbs and white hot in his lower body, crackling and sizzling, finally allowed to spread freely. His movements sped up, Ryad now meeting them with small thrusts, his cock encountering no resistance whatsoever – Jäger’s insides had adjusted around it, made space for it, welcomed it and the thought of being woken up by Ryad just _sliding_ into him forced another desperate sound out of his throat.

They kissed and kissed until Jäger’s stomach fluttered, his erection twitched in Ryad’s merciless grip, his muscles tensed, and Ryad said: “Look at me.” Jäger looked at him, into the face that had haunted his dreams as well as his day dreams, that had once _hurt_ to look at and that now only prompted warmth and affection and desire, and then he came. He clenched around Ryad, clawed into his back and moaned throatily while he ejaculated thickly over his hand – at the same time, he felt the flesh inside him swell up and heard Ryad gasp for air, saw his face contort in pleasure. The sensation of him spilling inside Jäger heightened the ecstasy of his climax, sharpened his senses to the point where he could merely hold on to Ryad and let his pulsing lust overtake him.

Both of them revelled in each other a few long seconds, thoroughly spent and enjoying each others’ company regardless. They were sticky and sweaty, yet when Ryad moved it wasn’t to wipe Jäger’s semen off his belly and out of his navel, nor did he require a moment alone, a stretch, anything. He just pulled them back onto the bed, holding Jäger close as he’d done before they’d even shed a single piece of clothing. They cuddled without a bother in the world, Ryad informing Jäger in the poshest way that he looked irresistible while orgasming to which Jäger had another giggling fit. It was cliché in the worst kind of way, both of them refusing to let go of each other, admitting the most embarrassing things and exchanging disgustingly romantic kisses.

Jäger loved every second of it. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d felt unbridled happiness like this before.

 

When Jäger returned the coat, he was met with a mumbled ‘you’re welcome’ from Fuze and a knowing glance from Glaz. The Russians had clearly been in their element and only returned recently, their cheeks still red and clothes wet. They looked like Jäger felt: complacent, charged up and content. For the first time in a while he felt nothing but camaraderie in the Spetsnaz’ presence where he’d been apprehensive before, now he joked with them, asked about the result of their snowball fight, exchanged a few words about Blitz. Kapkan especially appreciated the gesture, surprisingly enough – Jäger suspected he secretly required harmony around him and though he seemed to know nothing about Jäger’s brief fling with Fuze, he must’ve sensed the German was hesitant to approach the four of them.

The relief subsided quickly. As soon as Jäger stepped into the canteen for some leftover food (it came as no surprise Ryad and he had missed dinner), he was confronted with a scene so ugly it hardly registered. He was painfully reminded of a previous incident, Ash as furious as she was now, only this time she had Mira by the throat and, more importantly, an audience. Twitch and Montagne were trying to talk her down and extract her from the shouting match before it turned into a fist fight, whereas Thermite seemed ready to defend Ash should it become necessary. Bandit was sitting at a nearby table, legs stretched out and with an unusually grim expression on his face, watching the others attentively.

Even before Jäger could open his mouth, Ash changed targets from Mira to Twitch and hissed something that was undoubtedly crossing several lines at the same time. Because Twitch slapped her. It was an open-handed, _meaty_ thing, painful physically as much as it was humiliating, the sound echoing and the force of it making Ash stumble backwards into Thermite. For a moment, time froze while everyone in the room tried to process what had just occurred.

Then everyone was moving at once, Montagne stepped in between the three women and held Ash in place since Thermite made no attempt to, his irate grimace mirroring Ash’s, Mira pulled Twitch back, out of the Americans’ reach, and Bandit shot up like he’d been stung. Jäger started sprinting as soon as he noticed him making his way towards the Frenchwoman, actually _dived_ and crashed to the ground with his teammate, crawling up his body and pinning his wrists. A few steps more and he would’ve reached Twitch. Jäger wouldn’t have liked to find out what he’d have done to her.

Bandit snarled at him and struggled until he realised Jäger was _not_ going to let him go, the tension seeping out of his muscles as they watched Montagne drag Ash away and Mira and Twitch leave the room. “What’s going on?”, Jäger quietly asked in German and loosened his grip, sat up in a more comfortable position.

“You should know. Ash fucking told you”, Bandit grunted and shook him off. “With Mira being a shameless thieving magpie, it’s no wonder you defend her, with how much you love birds like that.”

“Magpies don’t actually steal shiny things.”

“Yeah, I know, they shoot fucking grenades out of the fucking air. I’m out.” He got up and made no effort to offer Jäger a helping hand, instead throwing a dark look towards the doors behind which Twitch and Mira had disappeared. “That cunt.”

“Bandit, wait. Don’t touch her – either of them. Do you hear? Don’t you _dare_.”

The other man stopped in his tracks, turning back and examining him more closely. “Oh, did you finally get to bounce on that cock? You did, didn’t you? It’s written all over your stupid ignorant face. Well, have fun, I’ll let Rook know not to expect you. I’m sure _Blitz_ won’t mind if you fuck the whole night.”

Jäger lowered his gaze involuntarily at that last comment. It was effective even if it was cheap. “He won’t mind me falling in love, no, I don’t think so either”, he replied softly.

Bandit’s eyes narrowed, his face stony. “Better sleep with one eye open”, he said before stalking away without another word.

 

Jäger refused to allow the small incident to put a damper on his general mood. As soon as he could, he climbed back into bed with Ryad, unwilling to discuss the scene he’d witnessed, and instead barraged Ryad with questions about his past, more details about his deceased brother, his experiences in the GEO, his private life. Hearing him speak was a never-ending source of wonder, astonishment for his achievements and resolve, entertainment whenever he spoke of something he _couldn’t_ do. They compared scars, Ryad admitted to being self-conscious about the lightning shaped stretch marks on his shoulders he’d gotten from growing too fast and Jäger reassured him they didn’t subtract from his attractiveness whatsoever. They discussed the other Rainbow operators, their abilities and personalities, the impressive range of characters represented in the multinational organisation. And in between, they kissed, made love, napped.

When Jäger did indeed wake up in the middle of the night due to Ryad entering him, his hazy consciousness pondered how surreal the whole experience was, how natural everything about it felt. There was no pressure to please, entertain, impress, no demand for attention – whenever Ryad noticed him dozing off, he snuggled closer and held him tight, kept still as to not disturb him. It was possible Jäger fell asleep during a conversation. He woke up by himself later, stroked Ryad’s body until he too was roused from a half-sleep, after which they did nothing but cuddle and whisper sweet nothings. That night and even the next day, they were timeless and unbound by societal expectations, acted on spontaneous ideas, indulged in whims.

At some point the next day, Jäger found the bed empty and blinked blearily into the lit room to see Ryad standing in the middle, looking at nothing. He’d put on clothes for no discernible reason, his brows furrowed. When Jäger called out to him, he turned and strode to the bed purposefully, diving under the covers fully clothed and wrapped himself around Jäger. After a single snore, he was asleep again. The whole occurrence was so endearing Jäger was shaking from barely suppressed laughter and it took him quite a while to wrestle Ryad out of his jeans and sweater before he himself was able to drift back into dreamless sleep.

 

It was dark again when Jäger emerged from Ryad’s room properly for the first time since the previous afternoon. They’d lived in each other’s skin, by now they became itchy and restless whenever there was no physical contact between them, were intimately familiar with each others’ bodies to the point where the other felt like their own. The outside world had ceased to exist, their company all the comfort they needed – they could’ve been the last people on the planet and nothing would’ve changed. They took turns showering and stealing food out of the pantry, fed each other while sitting on the bed naked or while having sex and laughing and stealing kisses in between bites.

Now that he entered the canteen and found all of GIGN present, playing a dice game and arguing good-naturedly about the rules, it was like breaking through a surface, as if he’d been floating in a warm swimming pool and had to come up for air before he went under again. His perception was sharpened, his body clunky in the way it was after not using it for intended purposes for a while, his facial expressions foreign and the presence of other people (other than Ryad) astounding. He was greeted warmly and with a tired smile from Twitch, so he grabbed a cup of coffee and slid into the chair next to her.

“You can play the next round without me, I can’t concentrate anyway”, she told the others before turning to Jäger with a knowing smile. She seemed weary and exhausted yet attentive enough to notice. “You look really happy.”

He returned her smile bashfully. “I am. You know, I’m…” And this was where it hit him full force, like a truck at top speed, like an unstoppable train. His mind had been too preoccupied first with Ash’s outburst, Twitch’s audacity, Bandit’s derision and then Ryad’s _existence_ , he’d uttered the words without thinking and left them hanging in the air, a Damocles sword following him around wherever he went and now it had finally come crashing down, impaling him with its inevitability. His active thoughts processed what his subconsciousness had known the entire time: _he loved_. He was in love. Revoltingly so, all the signs clearly visible for a while, the excitement, butterflies, affection. He loved Ryad. For the first time in – how many years had it been? He refused to count. Too many. He didn’t care. He loved. The revelation left him tongue-tied, gaping like a fish in a mock reenactment of their first meeting.

And Twitch merely put her hand over his and squeezed reassuringly. “It’s alright. I’m glad for you, you deserve this, mon cher.”

They sat in companionable silence for which Jäger was eternally grateful. Montagne’s rumbling laugh, Rook’s quick-fire chattering and Doc’s involuntary amusement softened the blow. It was going to be alright. In this moment, he believed it from the bottom of his heart – Blitz was going to heal, somehow the conflict between Ash and Mira would be resolved, and Ryad and he would work out the specifics of what they were and how they felt. His future was full of hope. A weight he’d never noticed was lifted from his shoulders.

“What about you?”, he asked. “Did you not sleep well?”

A deep sigh. “Ash decided my clothes look better on white, so she threw half of them out in the snow before IQ could stop her. She also soaked my mattress so I basically had nowhere to sleep -”

“You could’ve taken my bed. Or Blitz’.”

“- except for your room and I only say one word: _Bandit._ ” Oh. Yeah. “Sledge of all people found me wandering the halls and basically forced me to sleep in _his_ bed, the absolute gentleman, only then I woke up to the rest of SAS staring at me. Not a reassuring sight early in the morning, let me tell you.”

The pangs of guilt were now morphing into stabs. “I’m sorry, mein Schatz, I didn’t realise -”

Twitch shook her head emphatically. “You had nothing to do with it, don’t blame yourself. I’m really happy for you and I’d have felt bad if I’d drawn you into this. Ash just needs to calm down or I’ll report her, it’s entirely her choice. Oh, I’ve got good news as well! IQ visited Blitz earlier and he’s -”

At this, Jäger perked up. “Wait, she did?”

“Yes, Bandit as well, they -”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” But the answer to that was glaringly obvious and so the Frenchwoman lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow and left Jäger to blush embarrassedly. “Dumb question. I would’ve liked to see him, though. How is he?”

“First of all, conscious. He apparently couldn’t speak yet from what IQ told me, but due to how fast he was delivered to the hospital, he’ll probably recover fully.”

He exhaled slowly, relieved. “That’s great news. I’m so glad.”

“I can imagine he’ll want to speak to both Jackal and Bandit though, when he’s well enough. Six still hasn’t decided on an appropriate punishment for the two.”

During their conversations, Jäger had carefully avoided prodding the open wound further, refraining from making Ryad live through that tragic moment again though he’d been planning on trying to convince him to let Six know he wasn’t at fault. If necessary, he’d gather witnesses to attest to Bandit’s unfounded dislike, his and Ash’s bias against the newcomers. The exposure of the very one-sided feud might cause short-term instability in their ranks yet would prove that petty behaviour like that didn’t go unpunished. Bandit needed to realise he didn’t have free reign in Rainbow.

After a few more minutes of conversing, Twitch’s eyes were threatening to slide shut on their own so she waved Jäger aside to join the other French operators in their game instead, content to just watch and relax. Their company was more than welcome – though, admittedly, it helped to know that Ryad had explicitly sent him away for a designated amount of time. They’d done nothing but laze around all day and actually had started looking for acceptable excuses to separate since they were unable to be in any way productive as long as they were together. Ryad had wanted to train, go for a run or visit their gym (from where he got the energy, Jäger didn’t know) and so Jäger would have most of the evening to himself, knowing that their reunion later would be celebrated with sloppy kisses and copious amounts of sex, if the past 24 hours were any indication.

Twitch unavoidably fell asleep, her head resting on her crossed arms on the table, face slack and pretty regardless, her posture looking uncomfortable and yet none of the men could bear waking her up. When they noticed, they nudged each other, stopped talking and communicated with a series of nods and facial expressions to just leave the canteen and let Twitch catch up on much needed rest, moving to the deserted workshop instead. Over the past days, IQ had somehow managed to construct an infrared heater so they huddled around it, warming their fingers before they became stiff, and Rook continued his devastating win streak.

Without meaning to, Jäger’s mind drifted to Ryad during pauses in their banter. Now, with physical distance between them and the semblance of a usual evening, he was able to take a step back and remind himself of all the things he _hadn’t_ asked Ryad. He was still unsure what had prompted his change of heart, for example, and they had actually never brought up his sleeping troubles. Even Glaz had noticed and commented on them, yet Jäger knew nothing. He made mental notes to mention these topics later, eager to learn as much about Ryad as he could.

When the lamp proved not sufficient anymore, he decided to collect his jacket against the crisp air. On the way through the corridor, which smelled vaguely of smoke (courtesy of Bandit, probably, who sometimes smoked indoors), his heartbeat sped up as soon as he approached Ryad’s room. It was an entirely unbidden reaction that he couldn’t help: the prospect of spending the rest of the evening in Ryad’s arms was enticing. He decided to check whether the Spaniard had returned yet – a few kisses wouldn’t hurt, quite the opposite – and pushed the door open without knocking.

That last part was important insofar as that he managed to catch the person behind it red-handed, they were as surprised as he was to find them, squatting in front of Ryad’s bedside table, one of its drawers open and its content exposed, quite obviously having been rummaged through. There was a bright orange pill bottle in their hand that Jäger instantly recognised without even seeing its label – its twin had been maliciously hidden in Rook’s mattress, this one handed over to Ash for safekeeping and then nicked, now finally reappeared after Doc had already written it off. Guilt, shock and resignation were mixed together and formed a facial expression that made Jäger’s stomach drop.

“What are you doing?”, he asked cautiously.

Mira avoided eye contact and got up, the Vicodin dangling by her side uselessly. “I was -” The hint of resolve that had remained and might have prompted her to lie and safe face, flickered and disappeared, leaving only a tiredness that stemmed from something long locked away. “Actually, I could use your help, I’ll explain in return – you like Ryad, so I think it’ll be okay.”

“Where did you even get this?” Jäger barely heard himself talk. His mind was buzzing with this exposed secret, fearful of what he might discover next. _You like Ryad_ – what did that have to do with anything? Ryad had never touched the medicine, certainly not broken into Doc’s cabinet and definitely not taken it for personal use or maybe, who knows, for _selling_ or trading. He had nothing to do with this. He couldn’t have. That left only Mira, which was similarly disturbing as it led to the conclusion that Ash had been right about her all along. Jäger didn’t want to believe it.

Before Mira could explain, voices echoed off the walls, urgent and bone-chilling to the point that both of them forgot about the unfortunate incident immediately. Jäger turned and hurried back the way he’d come, his subconscious mind registering the smell long before he actually caught on: something was burning. The closer he got to the canteen, the thicker the smell, smoke started to bite in his eyes and lungs so that he instinctively covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve. Then he realised. _The canteen_.

Behind him, doors were opened, people yelled confusedly and he idly wondered why no smoke alarm was going off when he reached the double doors from which black fog was pouring out, thickening the air to the point where it became difficult to see through. Inside, a fire raged in the kitchen area, someone – judging by the silhouette, it was Montagne – was attempting to kill it with the help of an extinguisher while two other people were dragging a motionless body out of the room. Jäger joined them, stepped next to Doc and told him: “Oxygen.”

The doctor nodded, added ‘CPR’ and rushed to the medical room after allowing Jäger to take hold of Twitch’s legs. Together with Rook, they managed to carry the lifeless Frenchwoman outside, where a few other operators had gathered. Clothes were discarded in mere seconds and thrown on the ground so Twitch wouldn’t have to lie on the residual snow, they laid her down and Jäger demanded to know: “Are you okay with CPR?” Rook, his face pallid, eyes wild and fingers shaking, nodded and started resuscitating his teammate without hesitation. He was in shock, it would be beneficial for him to contribute. “Call an ambulance”, Jäger threw back over his shoulder while he ran back into the building.

“Way ahead of you”, came Kapkan’s calm reply.

He was coughing now, the polluted air tarring his lungs and nostrils, making his eyes water and dulling the adrenaline rush currently allowing him to function the way he’d been trained. When he was back in the canteen, he yelled: “Is it out?”

“I think so”, Montagne rasped back and sounded like he was hacking up a lung. “Try.”

At that, Jäger made his way through the dark room, ripped open every window, greedily sucking in the cold from outside. Behind him, Montagne was still coughing. “Go outside, Doc’ll have oxygen in a moment. If it starts up again, I’m here.” The giant nodded gratefully and left Jäger to watch the previously burning corner keenly, checking for remainders, glimmering that could turn into another fire, anything. Once he was confident there was no immediate threat, he headed out again.

Doc had placed a mask on Twitch’s face – a good sign, it meant she was breathing. Annoyed, confused, anxious operators stood around in groups, some half-naked, debating what had happened, inquiring about the Frenchwoman’s status, complaining about the lack of smoke detectors. Jäger paid them no heed and instead kneeled next to his friend, taking her worryingly cold hand into his. “How’s she doing?”, he asked Montagne. Doc was busy monitoring her life signs and Rook stood next to them, shivering and with his hands wrapped around his torso.

“Stable. Looks good. Excuse me.” Montagne got up and walked away, Jäger too distracted to follow him with his gaze.

“Do we know what caused it?”, Jäger turned to Rook now and that was the moment the shrieking began.

All heads turned as one, all attention focused on the massive Frenchman who was holding a flailing bundle by the throat, a vicious animal who turned out to be none other than Bandit, fighting against the grip, kicking, punching, screaming: “It wasn’t me, you fucker, I wouldn’t, he fucking loves her, don’t you -” And before anyone could react, Montagne’s fist collided with his jaw, the motion astoundingly slow and easy to dodge if it weren’t for the fact that he’d pinned his victim to the side of the building, the force knocking Bandit’s head back so viciously that it slammed into the wall behind him. His loud protests stopped abruptly. When Montagne released him, he slumped to the floor bonelessly, leaving behind only a darkened spot on the rough surface that was unmistakably his blood.

As if nothing had happened, Montagne walked back and sat down next to Twitch, ignoring the aghast expressions all around him. “Someone had turned the stove on and put paper towels on it”, he answered Jäger’s earlier question without even sounding out of breath.

Jäger had never seen Rainbow this quiet.

 

In the end, he accompanied the unconscious Bandit, answered all the relevant questions – yes he’d fallen down and hit his head, no he wasn’t drunk, no he didn’t have any relevant allergies, yes he had insurance – and was able to receive updates on Twitch’s condition. It was a dance he’d practised countless times, repeated it to achieve perfection, no matter the circumstances under which he was prompted to perform it. He effortlessly dodged the wrong questions, made sure to reply to all the right ones, kept himself occupied. The last part was the most difficult one, always had been.

He walked around the entire hospital and surrounding area twice in search of the best coffee. He counted cracks in the floor while he did so. He observed the nurses and doctors around him, remarkable in their resilience, perseverance and stoicism, saving and improving lives with one injection, one surgery, one blood transfusion. Whenever he had to wait, he mulled the question over whether these people actually did more for society than he ever had. He hadn’t found an answer yet.

Boredom was his worst nemesis. Boredom led to futile thoughts, to memories of blindingly bright lights, a doctor with a beard and crooked glasses leaning down to him and uttering the words that he still sometimes heard in his nightmares. When he’d realised years ago that he didn’t remember his parents’ faces yet could recall that one incisive moment with vivid clarity, he’d also become aware that all he felt was numbness when he thought back to them. His childhood had been difficult, sure, but his uncle nothing short of amazing. He didn’t miss his parents. Only when he had to spend time in these sterile walls, smelling of antiseptic and underlying disease, memories threatened to overtake him. He didn’t let them.

And so he walked, he bought and tasted, he counted. He kept himself busy. He spoke with Montagne. He waited.

Bandit’s skin was pale and his eyes empty, his head bandaged when he stepped out the room in front of which Jäger had been pacing. As soon as the injured man noticed his teammate, rage coloured his expression. His fingernails dug into the palm of his hand, the veins in his lower arms standing out. Still, he looked vulnerable, beaten. Jäger felt no need to agitate him further.

“Let’s go”, he said. Bandit’s head jerked in an attempted nod and he strode off – only to halt when he caught sight of the Frenchman in another hallway. He walked up to him, escaped Jäger’s grip meant to hold him back, and stopped only when they were face to face. He had to look up and his thin body was in no way a match for Montagne, he was trembling like a cornered fox. Montagne returned his scornful gaze calmly.

“It wasn’t me”, Bandit forced out from between clenched teeth. “You’re going to be sorry. I wouldn’t -” He broke off, threw a glance at Jäger and he heard Bandit’s scream again: _he fucking loves her_. “Shit. Let’s just leave. Fuck. Come on.”

Before they reached the base again, Bandit, who’d been silent the entire time, brooding and obviously in a terrible mood, turned to him. “Do you also think I did it? Do you think I tried to kill the prissy bitch?”

Jäger thought of the various threats he’d uttered about making Twitch the victim of his next prank, the fury in Ash’s eyes after she’d been slapped, the hate in Bandit’s voice as he’d called her a cunt. He thought of the pill and alcohol abuse, the general inability to deal with stress, the fact that Blitz’ injury must’ve affected Bandit more than he’d ever admit.

And he thought of the orange bottle in Mira’s hand, Mira in Ryad’s room. He thought of the fact that Bandit rarely took action while conflicts were unfolding. _He fucking loves her_. He thought of his vehement objections. He thought of him, trembling in front of Montagne who could easily break him in half.

“I don’t know”, he said honestly.

Bandit just scoffed.

 

Ryad’s face was what finally felled him. It was filled to the brim with sorrow and regret, guilt and self-loathing. He was that bearded doctor with the crooked glasses, he was that pitiable colleague who had witnessed the death of another, the slaughter of innocents, the ugliness of which humans are capable, and now lived to tell the tale, he was himself with his hands bloodied and his mouth sewn shut and only his eyes betraying the evil he’d been subjected to. He was a messenger of the darkness that lurked in all of them, called self-hate and pain and fear and loss. From his mouth spewed four horsemen, bringing death and disease and promising things even worse.

They were named as follows: “We need to talk.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. In a way, it was merely a culmination of tragedies heaped together, following the trend established throughout Jäger’s life. Why did he think this wouldn’t happen? Why did he assume they’d have a future? Why was he so selfish, so stupid, self-centred and _simple_ to presume he could be allowed this?

After saving one of his best friends from a fire, after catching a woman in whom he’d placed his faith in the act at _something_ , after seeing a gentle giant knock another one of his friends out cold, after spending most of the night in a hospital, he’d wanted nothing more than sink into the embrace of a lover, nothing more than to be comforted and cuddled and coddled, nothing more than to forget all about his worries.

Again, he shouldn’t be surprised. It was a testament to how blind he’d been that he was.

“Was I a fool?”, he asked. He was proud his voice wasn’t shaking, proud it betrayed none of his inner agitation. He stared his doom directly in the eyes and waited for the killing blow.

Ryad must’ve understood what he meant, for his expression softened straightaway, his arms reaching out and pulling him in. “No, mi cielo, no, not that, don’t misunderstand, you are wonderful. That, I never lied about, how could you assume – no, no, it’s quite the opposite. _You_ will hate _me_.”

That made no sense. Jäger allowed the Spaniard to embrace him, breathed in the aftershave that had become so familiar, so reassuring, felt the beard scratch his skin, blinked, uncomprehending, at tanned skin, waiting for the inevitable ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. It was an indication of how far up his own arse his head was because he never even thought of Twitch or Mira or Ash. “What are you talking about?”

A deep breath, then Ryad stepped back. His face looked broken somehow, as if it had shattered somewhere along the way and been reassembled incorrectly. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands and Jäger realised this was the first time where he wasn’t completely in control. Like the rug had been pulled out from under him where previously he’d been suave and confident and carefully vulnerable when the situation demanded it. There’d been none of the anxiousness that had tormented Jäger, barely any of the hesitation and doubt. He only noticed now. “I suffer from chronic insomnia, which you might’ve heard.”

He had, in fact, not heard. He’d known Ryad had trouble sleeping. Had he really not bothered to ask anyone about this in detail? Had Ryad steered him away from the topic whenever it had or could’ve had come up, told him white lies? He genuinely couldn’t remember. A feeling of dread was creeping up on him, chilling his blood and making him tense. He wouldn’t like the rest of this conversation, that much was sure. “Go on.” His tongue was hurting from where he’d unconsciously been biting on it.

“Normally, I can keep it in check. Stress exacerbates it. Sometimes, it impedes my performance on the job.”

A missing bit of information revealed. Jäger couldn’t stand still anymore, so he started pacing. “The first mission?”, he asked.

“I wanted to prove myself. You know what my Eyenox, the headpiece, can do. I was overeager and stupid.”

Another bit. And another instance where Ash had been telling the truth. Jäger remembered Ryad’s face that day, impassive, calm, curious even. Not like someone who rushed into a barricaded building while jeopardising not only himself, but the lives of his colleagues as well. He ran one hand through his hair, desperate for some stimulation under his fingertips so they would stop itching. A horrendous thought entered his mind, as unbidden as it was unwelcome. He stopped in his tracks, fixated Ryad with his gaze. Demanded to know, quietly, for fear of being right: “The hostage?”

Ryad sat down on the bed. He looked much smaller all of a sudden. “I don’t know.” His voice was unsteady. “I don’t remember. I was similarly reckless, Bandit wanted to clear one side first for some reason, I didn’t agree – it doesn’t matter. I got pinned down, he came to help. We were both shooting into the room. I couldn’t tell you which one of us it was. I was… not in a good way.”

Not Bandit’s fault they’d had to make split second decisions. Little white lies, lying through omission, every new uncovered secret chipping away at that monument of Ryad’s that Jäger still carried in his chest. Refused to give up. “You led me to believe it was Bandit.”

Surprisingly, a small shake of the head. “No, mi cielo, think back. I was devastated. You put the words into my mouth, you assumed it had been him. You asked me why I didn’t tell Six it had been him. I answered truthfully – I wasn’t sure. Never did I claim he did it.”

Jäger sank onto the only chair in the room and resisted the urge to rub his temples. Ryad was arguing semantics. How had it even come this? “You never objected”, he stated weakly. Not once had Ryad even tried to set him right.

“You have to understand”, Ryad started explaining and Jäger’s arm hairs stood up at the phrase, “I felt horrific. I was filled with self-doubt and guilt and you came along and… believed in me. For you, it was clear it couldn’t have been me. You defended me even against your own friend. I’m grateful and always will be, you convinced me to keep trying, to stick to my resolve. You gave me hope. I felt like giving up and would have, if not for your trust in me.”

He thought back to telling Glaz Bandit had shot the young woman. Back to Glaz’ neutral face. _I don’t assume_. It had been pure luck he hadn’t confronted Bandit about the whole thing or else he’d feel even more terrible. Ryad had bathed in his faith, basked in the mindless trust he’d placed in him and not felt the need to correct this small misunderstanding. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”, he asked. Looking at Ryad from a distance was weirdly unfamiliar by now. He was warmer up close.

“There is more.”

Of course there was. Jäger waited patiently and Ryad evaded his gaze.

“When I don’t sleep at all for a few days, my mind is hazy. Or, if I do sleep, I sleepwalk sometimes. I’ve tried to keep it under control, but I slip up. I forget things. I find things in my pockets that aren’t mine.” He seemed hesitant to continue.

Jäger stared. The gun. Pulse’s watch. _I didn’t steal anything. I was about to return it._ Fucking Mira. The two of them went way back, Jäger had known this, Ryad had told him himself, best buds looking out for each other. Mira _hadn’t_ stolen anything, as she’d been insisting all along. She’d been returning things. The orange pill bottle, too. Jäger would bet on the fact that there’d be none missing. That way, Twitch’s handgun would appear again in their room without any indication of outside -

Twitch.

Paper towels, forgotten on a stove.

Now it made sense that Ryad had greeted him with that kind of expression.

“I beg you”, the Spaniard implored him, “I beg of you. Grant me forgiveness. I couldn’t resist you, with you next to me, how could I sleep? It was a mistake. I’ll try to make it never happen again. Please.”

“What are you asking of me?” The question rasped over his tongue like sandpaper, a short, uncomfortable sensation, over quickly but the blood came later. Just the prospect of Ryad answering him was dirty. He had an idea of what it was he wanted from him.

“This is my best chance of finding my brother’s killers. You know this. I _have_ to stay. I need this. And I trust you, mi cielo, I really do, you believe in me, you listen, you care.”

 _You like Ryad, so I think it’ll be okay._ There was a term for what they were doing. Emotional blackmail. He didn’t know what to say. He remembered Bandit’s words: _He doesn’t belong here. He’s not cut out for the job._ Again, he’d spoken the truth though Jäger wasn’t convinced his teammate had known the extent to which he would turn out to be right. He doubted Bandit would’ve idly stood by in this case. “Your actions directly put one of your colleagues into hospital”, he heard himself say tonelessly. The implication that he’d been involved in Blitz’ and, in a way, Bandit’s injuries, hung between them.

“I know. And I’m deeply regretful. You must believe me, I am sorry from the bottom of my heart. I never meant for anyone to get hurt, I was careless, it won’t happen again. Trust me, just trust me on this, mi cielo.”

He buried his face in his hands. Anger, ire, scorn, none of it would come. Because ultimately, he was at fault as well – too eager to believe Ryad every word coming out of his mouth, too eager to condemn Bandit, too eager to build up Ryad’s faith in himself, too eager to spend the rest of his life with him. He knew, deep down, he hadn’t asked about Ryad’s problem because it might’ve meant to sleep alone, an entirely egotistical part of himself had refused to acknowledge the fact that he should’ve addressed it. Glaz again: _I can’t imagine either situation having a positive impact on Jackal’s sleeping patterns._ The fact that Ryad had a room of his own. If he’d had no trouble sleeping in the presence of others, he’d hardly be _on his own_.

If he complied with Ryad’s request, he’d have to keep silent, keep the knowledge to himself that his lover could’ve killed one of his closest friends. The notion appalled him, the prospect of lying to everyone around him to protect Ryad was sordid. Besides, from what little he knew of chronic insomnia, it wasn’t easy to treat whatsoever and needed patience as well as certain comforts their base couldn’t offer. At least for now. What would happen if he didn’t agree to remaining silent? He already knew the answer to that: he would lose the single thing that had provided him with unbridled happiness. His voice was small as he asked: “What are you doing, Ryad? Are you placing your fate in my hands?” Another rhetorical question – it was exactly what he was doing.

“You are the only one I can trust on this.”

“That is so… fucking _unfair_ , do you realise that?” His temples were starting to throb from all the emotions he was trying to keep at bay. This was the second time that Ryad just offloaded secrets on him entirely too heavy to carry by himself, yet expected him to cope. The first time, they’d been outside and illuminated by cold white light, now his confessions swamped the room, made it feel suffocating and cruel. Once again, Jäger was supposed to _make the right choice_. What he was actually doing was handing Jäger the remote control to the time bomb buried deep inside his mind so that he may trigger it whenever he wished, instead of waiting until it inevitably blew up. He decided to press it immediately. He couldn’t bear looking at Ryad anymore, now knowing how this was going to end. “You need help.” The words fell from his mouth like anvils, crushing everything along the way.

Ryad returned his gaze mournfully. He knew what this meant. “I do.”

“Help I can’t give you. I’m sorry. This is not something I can help you with.” He’d been able to build up Ryad’s confidence, convince him he should stay. The result of that had been disastrous. He vowed not to let this happen again. It was a tragedy, but this was entirely out of his control, these were demons he could not exorcise.

A faint nod, directed at the ground. He wasn’t sure what Ryad had been hoping for, whether he’d been hopeful about anything, only it wasn’t this. If he hadn’t caused so much pain and distrust among the others, Jäger would’ve urged him to stay. He couldn’t do it with a clear conscience. “I understand. I will… make arrangements. This is probably the right thing to do.” Their gazes met and Jäger was shocked to realise how much he still liked him, how his body longed for his touch. “I thank you. For… what we had.”

That was it. Unspectacular, really. He nodded wordlessly, then his muscles performed the actions of standing up, walking to the door, closing it behind him, making their way to his room. His thoughts were white noise. It was over. What he had initially feared had come true, as it always did, he got too attached and burned. Less of a smouldering coal fire and more of a volcanic eruption. Intense, mesmerising, over disappointingly quick and leaving nothing alive in its wake. He did get to know Ryad, after all, got to know him intimately and became undone over the little details he generously overlooked in favour of pretending everything was fine. A lot of this was familiar.

His chest felt empty. Everything felt empty. He looked around the room, wondered how he’d gotten here, wondered where everyone was. Blitz was in hospital. Bandit had just returned from there. Rook undoubtedly was trying to shake off the memories of making Twitch’s heart beat again in her chest. And here was Jäger, standing in the middle of an empty room that became blurrier by the second. There was no Twitch to console him, no Blitz to give advice, no Bandit to gently mock him and then switch topics to distract him.

That last thought stuck with him. He remembered how warm Bandit had been and exhaustion started weighing down his bones, so he climbed into his bed, wrapped himself in the blanket that smelled familiar and vaguely like coming home, and did nothing to stop the tears.

 

He awoke to the smell of something burning in his nose and abruptly sat up, alarmed – which would’ve been fine, had he been sleeping in his own bed. A loud thunk and sudden pain reminded him that he hadn’t been. Rubbing his scalp with a frown, he was met with a concerned glance from Rook who was stretched out on his bed and reading, as well as a calm expression from Bandit. He was perched by the window, quite obviously the source of the smoke, the bandage around his head blindingly white and like an accusation, his features composed. “Don’t fucking smoke indoors”, Jäger snapped at him irritatedly – the scent brought back memories from the previous night. It wasn’t the only source of his anger and he knew he shouldn’t take it out on him, and yet… he was there. And Bandit was an easy scapegoat, always had been. The wound on his head attested to that.

“You have your own bed, did you know?”, Bandit replied and despite the neutral tone and impassive face, he was _rearing_ for a fight. He wanted nothing more than for Jäger to provoke him, would possibly poke and prod until he achieved his goal, the electricity right below his skin was almost audible. He could hardly be blamed; now that Jäger knew the truth, he sympathised. Even when Bandit ostentatiously lit up a new cigarette with the embers of the one he’d just finished.

A part of Jäger wanted to accept the challenge, channel all the negative forces inside him into yet another brawl but ultimately, he refused to allow Bandit to drag him down to his level. Besides, what he felt was less a fiery rage and more a deep pool of guilt, anxiousness and sorrow. He’d rather cry on his shoulder than exchange blows. “Ryad is going to leave Rainbow”, he announced. In his mind, the consequences of this were unclear since he hadn’t yet managed to process the blissful, ignorant time they’d had, let alone everything Ryad had confessed earlier.

Bandit paused. Jäger had expected him to react with schadenfreude, relief, gleeful ‘I told you so’. Instead, he stubbed out his not even half-smoked cigarette and, without breaking eye contact with Jäger, said: “Rook.” The young Frenchman perked up. “Piss off.”

Rook tried to argue: “It’s not like I can understand you when you’re speaking German, why -” A single glance from Bandit shut him up. Slightly flustered, he climbed down and left without further ado, closing the door behind him. This was something Jäger would have to investigate. Bandit could be frightfully convincing when he so desired and he didn’t want to see the young operator caught up in anything unsavoury.

“Go on.”

“How much do you know?”

A derisive snort. Bandit crossed his arms. “Are you asking this so you can figure out what to blame me for? Or are you asking _honestly_?”

He decided not to go for the bait and stood up instead, feeling silly in Bandit’s bunk all of a sudden. “I know most of what’s been going on. I know that I owe you an apology.”

His arms uncrossed. It felt like a small victory. “So you’re asking for my perspective now?” Jäger nodded. “Alright. The first mission with Ash, he ran off to chase some dude because he found his footprints, so she screamed in his face. He had the _gall_ to ask her not to tell anyone about the incident and when she raised hell, he played dumb. Made her look like a _real_ bitch, and don’t women just love when guys do that.” As if he was expecting protest, he stopped and searched Jäger’s face, apparently surprised. “No objections?” Jäger shook his head mutely. For some reason, what Bandit did next was more unbearable than all the taunting he could’ve done – his expression softened in sympathy and he quietly said: “Boy, he really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

Jäger’s façade cracked. “He likes me. He promised me that.”

“Ah, but isn’t that the whole problem? That he only _likes_ you?”

With growing horror, he realised that Bandit was the only other person to know how _deep_ his feelings for Ryad ran. Twitch must’ve guessed though he never mentioned anything explicit, he hadn’t talked it through with Blitz or anyone else really and for all Ryad knew, he treated all his lovers with the same devotion. No, Bandit knew about his crushes and modus operandi and even some other intimate details about his love life that he’d foolishly disclosed on previous occasions. Bandit knew he wouldn’t have missed visiting Blitz if it hadn’t been serious. Bandit knew he wouldn’t have been this fucking _blind_.

And Ryad? He could only guess. Still, he refused to believe he was merely used, there had been _something_ between them, even before Ryad might’ve needed him, they shared that one afternoon out in the cold, warming each other with their company, unknowingly igniting something that, when they realised, couldn’t be extinguished anymore. Not immediately. “It’s enough”, he replied quietly. “I believe him when he says he never wanted anyone to get hurt. He’s a good man at heart, even if his judgement is flawed and his priorities skewed.”

Bandit laughed coarsely. “Are you serious? He’s a fucking time bomb, both to himself _and_ to us. He only needs to lose it on one mission and we’re toast, he wanders into a room that’s not cleared, throws the wrong grenade, _anything_. And yes, I know about his fugue states or moments of madness or however you want to call it. He caused the fire, didn’t he? And his fucking pal Mira helped him cover it all up. I talked to a few people who mentioned seeing him wander around. Not so hard to find out, actually.”

“That doesn’t make him any less righteous. His motives are just, he wants to do good. He’s still searching for his brother’s killers.”

“Is that what he told you? That sob story?”

“Why do you hate him so much?” The question was met with stunned silence. It was one of the only advantages Jäger had – he knew Bandit as well, knew he’d normally have watched the chaos unfold and spared a few pointed, vitriolic and snide comments. Bandit himself had barely come into contact with him and the fact that no one had believed Ash about their mission together usually would’ve been great fodder for his teasing. Instead, he’d watched Ryad like a hawk, displayed his dislike openly and obviously felt involved. “What did he do to you?”

“I just can’t stand the sight of him, he’s such a fucking hypocrite. You stand here, defending him, _why_? If you meant anything to him, anything at all, he wouldn’t have gone and put your silly sidekick in the hospital.”

Jäger’s heart began pounding. With the direction their conversation was going, this was the point where he should walk away and refuse to touch on this subject ever again. But he couldn’t. He found himself incapable, suddenly, of not drilling further. Bandit’s words echoed in his mind: _He loves her. I would never do that._ Despite how often Bandit had threatened to, he’d never actually hurt Twitch. “You had the opportunity to throw him under the bus with the hostage. You could’ve claimed he did it, later, to Six alone. Yet you didn’t.”

It was something he hadn’t understood at the time. When it came down to it, Bandit looked out for himself and had no reason to keep quiet and take part of the blame. “I’m not a fucking snitch”, he snarled.

“You could’ve potentially gotten him removed. Why didn’t you take that chance?” No reason to stay silent except one: Jäger would’ve been furious with him. There was no doubt he wouldn’t have believed Bandit, would have fiercely argued for Ryad’s innocence. Without Jäger finding out about Ryad’s faults, it might’ve actually severely impacted his friendship with Bandit.

“I don’t meddle. You know me.” Yes. Jäger knew him. Which was the reason it was so easy for him to pick Bandit’s train of thought apart. His excuses.

“Except you did. You told me to stay away from him repeatedly.”

Now Bandit was starting to remind him of a caged animal again, frightened, wild and willing to lash out. “Shut up”, he hissed, his voice promising danger and repercussions, only Jäger was too far gone to take his advice.

“Besides, you hated him straightaway. Why? You couldn’t have known then, it’s impossible. Why did you take such an immediate dislike to him?”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

They stared at each other. The air was heavy with implication, it was clearly visible on Bandit’s face that he knew and that he was aware _Jäger_ knew, the one secret that could unravel him, the one truth that might potentially break him if it came out. It was what Jäger had feared this entire time, what Blitz and he had been trying to conceal, keep away from everyone else.

Bandit _cared_. Bandit cared so much, in fact, _so much_ that he would never admit to it, though his actions screamed of his loyalty, his devotion – it was a look he didn’t care for, attempted to shake off with each snide remark he made, with each mean prank he pulled. He _needed_ to be the scapegoat, the villain, couldn’t handle praise or apologies or even any sort of affection. And so he shook Jäger off whenever he threatened to fall asleep on his shoulder, he’d undoubtedly insulted Blitz’ abilities when he visited him in the hospital, he refused to disclose how long he’d been mulling it over when he arrogantly presented a solution to whatever IQ and Jäger were working on.

Nothing about this was news to Jäger. Except the detail where Bandit cared about _him_ a little too much. That was the reason why he’d been livid whenever Jackal came up after that first mission – he could see how infatuated Jäger was and knew Jackal didn’t deserve it. He was watching Jäger blindly idolise someone who’d endanger not only himself but also those around him, unable to interfere.

And before? The very first evening, when he’d advised Jäger to get over his crush as soon as possible? What had he seen that prompted him to say this? Jäger was sure now. Bandit hadn’t been watching Jackal. He’d been watching _him_.

They were teetering on an edge. Jäger’s incessant inquiries had brought them here, every question a step towards the gaping abyss. If he stayed silent now, they could carry on as before, pretending they knew nothing of what they saw in each others’ eyes, cautiously stepping back from the chasm, falling back to safety, familiarity. Ultimately, nothing would change: They knew how to function well together in those parameters, nothing _needed_ to change. What lurked down at the bottom would stay a mystery. But Jäger had enough, curiosity fuelled him together with weariness, exhaustion of repeating this dance with Bandit over and over again, which they would end up doing. With two words, he grabbed hold of Bandit and jumped.

“Make me”, he said.

Something shifted. A harrowed look crept into Bandit’s eyes and Jäger felt the floor below his feet move. It wasn’t a challenge, they both realised this, it was an offering, an out, an _excuse_ for Bandit to lash out and later blame a sudden surge of emotion, temporary insanity, whatever he fancied. In return, Jäger would have certainty. About what Bandit would do if he let him. About what Bandit really wanted. About why he took Jackal’s _existence_ so personal. The space between them heated up, became unbearable, Jäger’s own inaction making him itch all over, he longed to – to do what, exactly?

And then a switch was flicked. Bandit crashed their lips together and Jäger, who until this point had never once thought about kissing Bandit, couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted more in that moment than precisely _that_. Going from inertia to forceful movement, Jäger stumbled back, breaking the kiss which hardly deserved that title, and heard his t-shirt rip where Bandit pulled on it, both of them colliding once again in a flurry of limbs, the chaos familiar – only now they weren’t fighting. He hit the back of his head on the bed frame before Bandit stuffed him into the lower bunk, following suit and covering Jäger’s body with his own. His movements were frantic, as if he expected to be chastised and forced away any second, like a dog quickly chewing something he knew he wasn’t allowed to, trying to eat as much as possible as fast as possible.

A tongue pried Jäger’s lips open, wrestled with his and just claimed his mouth with possessive licks, groans echoing in Jäger’s ears and it took him a moment to notice they didn’t only belong to Bandit. He accidentally dug his fingers into the place where Bandit’s head had hit the wall and nails scratched over his stomach in response, leaving burning welts that might actually be bleeding, so he did it again and pressed against the discoloured bruise on Bandit’s jaw, earned a snarl and a sharp bite into his lower lip. The pain was freeing, in a way, distracting him from the fact that he had no idea what they were doing and no intention to find out.

Bandit kissed like he fought: with all he’d got, dirty, sloppy, wild. Jäger was getting dizzy trying to keep up, barely registering the hands pulling on his clothes, tearing at his top until it was effectually off, wrestling the waistband of his jeans over his hips. His blood was rushing deafeningly in his ears, his heart beating a fast staccato rhythm, the rest of his body reacting too late to anything that was happening, flailing slightly, making an effort to catch any part of Bandit and missing; Bandit was a force of nature above him, restless, unable to stop, unwilling to pause and reflect. The kisses were now fervent, both of them panting into them, moaning slightly, lost in the familiar sensations and ignoring everything left unsaid that hung over them, an ominous dark mist.

Only when Bandit’s fingers closed around his shaft did Jäger realise how aroused he was, how desperate for release. His hips jerked into the touch, lifting off the mattress and rolling into the tight grip, a choked moan clawing its way out of his throat. How did this happen? Since when did he desire Bandit like this? He broke the kiss as those clever fingers started moving, jerking him slowly and the way he loved it, a twist to the wrist, all the way from the base to the tip, dragging his foreskin over his head, keeping a firm hold. Bandit _must_ have watched him before, he’d done this perfectly the last time as well and this revelation fuelled the lust threatening to overtake him.

The pleasure didn’t last long, Bandit was obviously too impatient for that. He sat up and removed the lower half of Jäger’s clothes, breathing just as heavy as he was, refusing to make eye contact while he settled between the now naked legs, examining his sprawled out teammate for a second. He then leaned over and plucked a bottle from a drawer whose sight made Jäger’s hole pulse and his cock twitch, a purely Pavlovian response for which he cursed himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fuck Bandit right then and there, not after the mere smell of him set him off like this, but he’d hoped for another quick hand job, nothing major, a simple affair after which they could _talk_ , unimpeded by their lust for each other. He’d hoped for something less drastic than this.

“What are you doing?”, he asked quietly despite knowing _exactly_ what Bandit was doing as he coated his fingers in oil, eyeing Jäger’s crotch hungrily. “Don’t you think -” A hand was laid over his mouth, effectively silencing him and then a finger was pushed inside right to the hilt, the sensation both intimate and threatening as Bandit leaned over him, trapping him with his body and sucking on the side of his neck.

“Let me have this”, he whispered and added another finger, stretching Jäger uncomfortably and moving his other hand from his mouth to his throat, caressing it lightly even though the gesture was unmistakably dominant, “don’t say anything. Just let me have this.”

All of this was going too fast, Jäger hadn’t really been in control of any of it, though now he was clearly shown just _how much he wasn’t_. The most worrying aspect, however, was that he didn’t mind in the least. He relished the opportunity to relinquish his agency, be swept away by Bandit, allow him to pour out everything he’d bottled up so far. Because he knew, was deeply convinced that if he asked Bandit to stop now, he would.

The fingers curled and he gasped, shuddered, clenched around them, making Bandit’s eyes darken and do it again, all of his motions impatient. He withdrew his hand, pulled his own erection out, oiled it up and then, suddenly, there was a moment of perfect calm. Both of them were staring at the place where they could be connected any second now, Bandit’s breathing was laboured, his face full of twisted longing, Jäger feeling strangely exposed and vulnerable. He spread his legs further, lifted one of it to allow for better access and Bandit scooted closer, the opportunity to reflect elapsing unused by both of them, the head of his cock breaching Jäger slowly, the flesh hard and unyielding, hot and thick. They were perfectly quiet while Bandit worked it in with small thrusts, every single one going a little deeper than its forerunner, moulding Jäger around him.

It forced the air out of his lungs, both the feeling of being filled so thoroughly as well as the knowledge that it was _Bandit_ doing so, adding to the thrill and the guilt and the overarching lust. This, whatever it was, felt like an appropriate conclusion to the chaos of the past days, he’d blinked once and now he was impaled on Bandit’s cock, trembling under him and loving every second of it, wanting _more_ , so he watched his teammate with half-lidded eyes as he pulled out almost all the way and then slammed back in, repeating the motion, prompting Jäger to moan throatily and hold on to the headboard with both hands for support. Bandit himself wasn’t much quieter while he thrust in so hard he rocked Jäger’s body every time, his expression a mixture of bliss and despair, as if all his wishes were being fulfilled yet he’d have to pay with his life afterwards.

They couldn’t bear looking at each other, so Bandit bent down once again, mouthing at his shoulder while keeping up the brutal pace, making both of them moan and Jäger writhe, push up his hips to rub his hard dick on Bandit’s stomach, throw his head back. “You love this, don’t you?”, Bandit panted in between thrusts and he was right, it felt phenomenal, the urgency combined with the feral, primitive pleasure of nothing more than getting _fucked_ created a heady result, intoxicating, nerve-wracking. “You’re such a. Fucking. _Whore_.” He stressed each word with a sharp movement, wrenching an almost sobbing moan out of Jäger who in turn wrapped his legs around Bandit’s waist, now meeting his hips every time.

He never would’ve guessed Bandit could be this loud, groaning and mewling right into his ear, venting all that pent up frustration and yearning, making the bed creak and their skin slap. He was helplessly chasing his release, egoistic as if he still expected Jäger to stop him any moment now, rough and almost violent. He was the exact opposite of Jackal, refusing to let him talk, taking whatever he wanted, making this fast and hard and Jäger had never been this turned on in his entire life. Because this – this was genuine, unadulterated _need_ , no second thoughts, no ulterior motives, if anything, this _was_ the ulterior motive.

Bandit seemed to be getting close, if his despairing noises and his irregular rhythm were any indication, so Jäger squeezed a hand in between their bodies and started stroking himself, concentrating on the feeling of being invaded, the way Bandit’s dick rubbed over that sensitive spot deep inside, the familiar build-up of pleasure that made his limbs tense up, his breath short, his mind muddled. He’d obviously misjudged the timing, because Bandit came soon with a series of broken moans, his shaft throbbing and pulsing, coating Jäger’s insides white which was a whole other turn-on, only he wasn’t anywhere near his climax yet, as hot as the unbridled fucking had been.

Or so he thought.

After Bandit had finished ejaculating and riding out his orgasm, he continued moving shallowly, nibbled at Jäger’s ear and breathed: “Come for me. Come on.” And then Jäger noticed it, an insistent push additional to the dick still inside, another finger entering and stretching him, rubbing over sensitive nerve endings and making him see stars. His back arched all by itself, his mouth opened and his hand was _flying_ over his weeping cock, brushing against the soft skin of Bandit’s flat stomach, pulling himself ever closer to the edge. Teeth pulled at his earlobe and warm breath made him squirm and then there was _another_ finger demanding entrance and Bandit whispered: “Darling. Come for me.”

So Jäger did. He grinded his hips against the intrusion and reached his orgasm with a sob, frantically jerking off and holding Bandit’s waist in an iron grip with his legs. His vision _actually_ went black for a few heartbeats, so intense was the lust spreading through his veins, accompanied by the feeling of hot cum on his skin. He felt everything around him keenly, Bandit’s top that had ridden up, the coarse textiles of his jeans on Jäger’s sensitive inner thighs, the lips on his earlobe, the palm stroking his chest, the body parts pushed inside him, all enhanced and tinged with pleasure, every tactile sensation adding to the forcefulness of his climax. “That’s it”, Bandit told him, “just like that.” And Jäger’s hand couldn’t stop moving, milked him for every last drop until he was completely exhausted, unable to feel anything else anymore. He was left empty.

Bandit allowed him to catch his breath before he pulled out, but when he moved to withdraw entirely, Jäger grabbed the back of his neck and tightened his legs and hissed: “Don’t you _dare_ fucking run now, you asshole.” So Bandit stayed and rested his forehead on Jäger’s shoulder and said nothing while their heartbeat slowed and blood quietened. Was there anything to say? Jäger knew now, his crushes hadn’t been a problem, only when he genuinely fell in love did he break Bandit. He should’ve known. He had to put him back together now. “Can we talk?”

“No.”

He huffed, half from amusement, half out of annoyance. He’d expected Bandit to clam up instantly. “This is the second time. Is this going to become a trend? Whenever I start something vaguely serious, you’re there to fuck it out of my system?”

“Please. Stop talking.”

“We just had sex. I feel like I deserve an explanation.” Bandit was quiet for a long while, so long that Jäger felt obliged to add: “If I have you, I don’t need anyone else. Do you realise this?”

The reply was quiet, unsteady. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“You.”

There was a myriad of possible answers, though the most important one managed its way to the tip of Jäger’s tongue: Nothing much had to change. They could continue to confide in each other, spend time together, proceed as usual, only sometimes… there’d be more. It was this _more_ that seemed to absolutely terrify Bandit though. And to be honest, Jäger wasn’t confident about it either, Jackal had left a deep gash that was still bleeding and he refused to reduce Bandit to a plaster. Maybe they shouldn’t decide on anything right now. The incorrect dose of something could end up being a poison, the correct a remedy – and Jäger felt they needed some distance.

“I’m sorry about your head”, he said instead of all the things he wanted to say.

“I’m sorry I let you fuck Jackal”, Bandit replied, an indication he was reverting back to his old self. The comment stung even if Jäger knew he ultimately harboured good intentions.

“Get up. I need to shower and probably sleep some more. And then we need to talk about Rook.” It was deceptively easy, falling back into old habits. But when Bandit righted himself, climbed off the bed, threw one last glance back at Jäger, he seemed shaken, anxious, unsure.

“Use your own fucking bed this time.” With those words, he zipped up his jeans and left Jäger to drying cum all over his body, mussed up sheets and his torn t-shirt.

When Jäger came back from his shower, he swapped their blankets.

 

~*~

 

“I refuse to smuggle in more mint chocolate for you”, Jäger told his team leader sternly and placed the new bundle of books by the bedside. “Chocolate is about the worst thing you can eat right now.”

Blitz looked about ready to pout and turned to Bandit who’d folded himself into one of the visitor’s chairs as soon as they’d entered the room. “Hey, don’t fucking look at me, man, you’re the whole reason I get strip searched every time we come here.”

“It’s a miracle you don’t get strip searched _everywhere_ you go”, Jäger muttered under his breath and IQ snorted.

“Before you ask, I’m with Jäger on this one”, she added with a soft smile, “you get into trouble enough as it is, the nurses all breathe a sigh of relief when they see us because we take you off their hands for a bit.”

“I got shot in the neck, I didn’t have both my legs amputated”, Blitz complained petulantly. He looked loads better than the first time Jäger had visited him, not as sickly and pale, not as immobile, dazed and overall _miserable_. Now he moved around freely and apparently got up to all sorts of shenanigans in which Bandit was undoubtedly far from innocent.

The past weeks had been comparably quiet. Jäger had spent the first few days picking up the pieces, which meant supporting Jackal first in his decision to leave Rainbow and then while he disclosed his role in the applicable events to the other operators, offering apologies and explanations where appropriate and being met with mixed reactions. They inevitably spent some time together that left Jäger imbalanced and sorrowful, though Twitch’s return was a ray of sunshine among the clouds. She had several long talks with most of the involved parties, smoothing ripples and pouring oil over troubled waters, effectively restoring most of the brittle harmony in which Rainbow spent the majority of time.

Mira stayed. Her farewell from Jackal was tearful and not even overshadowed by Ash’s sour face, though Jäger did take note of the fact that she was the only one who didn’t leave Jackal’s eyes dry. He didn’t dwell on it, he’d accepted that whatever they’d had wasn’t meant to be from the beginning.

Things went back to normal. They trained, killed time, reinstalled a proper kitchen after spending a day eating dry cornflakes, Fuze and Jäger managed to repair some of the damaged goods in a joint effort that seemed to slightly confuse but please both of them. With Jackal gone, Jäger was capable of taking in his surroundings once more: after another heavy snowfall, he made the mistake of aiming at the wrong person, which led to Sledge spending minutes holding him still and stuffing his coat with handfuls of snow while he flailed and screamed for help. Kapkan built something akin to an igloo and demanded an entry fee, making him the richest operator in the base as long as shaving cream was the currency in question, after which he sold it again for horrendous prices due to the overall shortage – some of the women must’ve sneaked into the men’s rooms and stole the last cans to afford being able to drink hot chocolate in an igloo. Smoke threatened to beat him up, the two got into a shaving cream fight and ended up looking like yetis, if the yeti’s sole purpose was to make all human beings around it laugh so hard they almost pissed themselves.

In that sort of company, Jäger could hardly wallow in self-pity and melancholy. The Russians undoubtedly knew a big portion of what had happened between Jackal and him – or at least Glaz did –, the French were adept at reading most of those around them anyway, even without Twitch keeping them up to date, and IQ managed to extract most of it from him over the course of a few days. Still, no one tip-toed around him, a lot of them were discussing the circumstances around Jackal’s leaving openly and he developed a thick skin as a result.

And Bandit… continued as always. It was as if he’d never chosen to share the blame with Jackal purely to avoid making Jäger suffer, never taken the blame for almost killing Twitch, never looked out for Jäger’s well-being without him even realising. No word was spoken about it, Montagne’s apology tiredly waved aside. And if his attitude was more acidic than normal, and if he carefully avoided being in the same room as Jäger for most of the time, and if he refused to talk about Jackal at all, most of the other operators didn’t notice or didn’t care. The only time he perked up was whenever they went to see Blitz, the two of them joking and laughing together like the four Germans had often done in the beginning, right after their recruitment. Jäger watched them without envy. It was a matter of time.

“Ryad visited not long ago”, Blitz said just then and a short silence befell the room. “He said he’d like to talk to you, Jäger, but only if you wanted. He should be waiting in the courtyard.”

He felt Bandit’s glare in his back and nodded, a strange feeling in his stomach. “Sure. Of course. I’ll go.” Numbly, he turned around and entered the corridor, let his feet carry him. A thought nagged at him, a possibility he couldn’t quite dismiss, an idea that was threatening in its potential to become real. _What if he wants me back_. Deeper down, buried somewhere in his brain, was a worse thought: _What if I do_. He remembered with vivid clarity how intense his reaction had been upon seeing him for the very first time, how content he’d been in those days they’d spent inhabiting each other’s space. Could he claim a repetition of that was impossible? His heart was pumping as he pushed open the doors to the outside, blinded momentarily by the bright sunshine so unusual for a winter morning, the icy air biting his cheeks.

Jackal was sitting on a bench, his profile regal and crass against its surroundings – his elegant black coat, dark hair and tanned skin stood out in front of the frost-covered ground around him. His breathing was calm and manifested as small clouds, he was rubbing his hands together despite wearing gloves and his expression was mellow. The bags under his eyes had lessened, his cheeks filled in a little, his complexion improved. His Mediterranean looks were beguiling.

He was… familiar.

Jäger stepped in front of him and he stood up with a genuine smile, honestly glad to see him. It was nice. Jäger was glad they’d decided to part ways amicably. “I’m happy you’re here”, Jackal told him.

“You look good”, Jäger replied and mirrored his smile. “How are you doing?”

“Much better. The lack of stress helps immensely.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He was. It came as a bit of a surprise, but he realised he wasn’t holding a grudge. “You wanted to talk?”

Jackal hesitated and trepidation rose in Jäger, though what he said instead of all the possibilities Jäger had thought of, was: “I might come back. To Rainbow, that is. Six contacted me. Said she considers this a temporary leave of absence and assured me she would make arrangements for my insomnia upon my return.”

“That’s great”, Jäger said and meant it. He knew how well most of the others had worked with him, how seamlessly he’d fit in. “Mira misses you terribly.”

Another smile, this one wistful. “I miss her too. But… I just wanted to let you know. And ask you whether you’re alright with this.”

He paused. Tried to imagine how it’d be, working with him, being around him, seeing him every day. His heart didn’t throb. His insides didn’t feel queasy. He thought it would be pleasant. “Yes, Ryad. I am. I’m looking forward to having you back.”

They looked at each other and Jäger heard Glaz’ voice in his head, not for the first time and definitely not for the last – the Russian had turned out to be a reliable voice of reason and hadn’t turned Jäger away when he’d approached him a few days ago. _Falling in love is easy_ , Glaz had said, _staying in love is a choice_. He now saw that they’d both taken the easy route, burned out fast but bright. They were on the same page. It was an immense relief. “Thank you”, Jackal told him and gently pulled him into a hug, pressed him into his woollen coat and held him close for a few seconds, Jäger returning the embrace with an absent-minded smile.

They talked some more about everything and nothing and the longer they interacted, the easier it became. In the end, when Jackal left, Jäger entered the hospital again with a wide grin that didn’t even dissipate when confronted with the fierce scowl on Bandit’s face. Unimpeded by any inhibitions, feeling light and free and warm despite the superficial cold, Jäger stepped in front of him and held his gaze. “Ask me”, he offered.

“Why the fuck do you look so happy? Did you forget he used you and -”

He shook his head, undeterred. Bandit’s bark had always been more dangerous than his bite, at least where it concerned him. “Wrong question.”

Bandit rolled his eyes but decided to oblige. “What did he have to say to you?”

“He’s going to come back in a while.”

“I need a smoke.”

“You need to stay right the fuck here.” Jäger was still smiling while Bandit watched him warily, his face guarded. “When he comes back, I’m going to be his friend. Nothing more. I need you to know this.”

“Why?” He was still feigning nonchalance.

“Why are you down here instead of in Blitz’ room?”, Jäger shot back. Bandit stayed silent. “I can handle you.”

A scoff. “You really can’t.”

“Then let me try. I want to try.” Jäger’s hands came up to stroke the other man’s sides, his ribs, his chest, and when he didn’t move away, he kissed him. Simple and sweet, a soft touch of lips, his eyes closed. He was making a choice. It undoubtedly wasn’t the uncomplicated one, one where everything would be a breeze and predictable and safe. He knew Bandit. Nothing about him was uncomplicated or predictable or safe. But it was a choice he made nonetheless.

A few seconds later, Bandit started kissing back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all the love in the world for [Mi723](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mi723) for proofreading and making me fall in love with this fandom❤  
> I hope you enjoyed the read! ~~Also I'm sorry for hurting everyone in this~~


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